Broken
by shadowoftherose
Summary: Post-RoTF. Life seems to be going well for Sam, when the unthinkable happens... As his life is turned upside down, will his hold on the Autobots be enough?
1. Chapter 1

**BROKEN**

A year after the fall and rise of Optimus, the destruction of The Fallen and Megatron's retreat, Sam thought his life finally seemed to have a taken a turn for the more normal. That is, after the government dealt with the whole entire-world-on-the-look-out thing and people finally stopped pointing and shouting as he walked by. He no longer got death threats by phone (it may or may not have had to do with changing his number only a zillion times) and stopped being afraid of someone coming up to him with a rock and knocking him out.

Not fun.

Of course, life wasn't _really_ normal, as he finally had accepted to sort of take the position of alien ambassador, and in general, he was only brought in when relations really got strained. He was thankful for that, and was able to keep studying at Princeton. Not that his studies were anything that he would've envisioned some time ago. Now he was taking mostly political and historical classes, going for a degree that would help him in his new job.

It wasn't all bad, though. His position as ambassador certainly had an impressive salary to boot. And now that he had finally convinced his girlfriend (the term didn't really seem to fit their relationship, they've gone through too much together) Mikaela Banes to leave their not-so-quiet-home of Tranquility, he used that money to get her a nearby apartment to his campus. She probably could've afforded one of her own (her work on cars was impressive) but Sam insisted on making sure she was very comfortable.

So that would be why Sam, riding in his coveted yellow Camaro (unbeknownst to people that it was actually an alien) parked and waited for Mikaela to leave her apartment. He had offered to escort her from her door, but she insisted on him waiting outside, something about it being a special night, and him not seeing her until she was ready.

It _was_ a special night. It was the 3rd anniversary of meeting the Autobots, that fateful day when Barricade had demanded the glasses ("Are you username Ladiesman217?!") and it had all begun. Mikaela and Sam also counted their own anniversary on the same day, as it was that day that really brought them together.

"_Where are yoooou?" _played from Bee's familiar radio.

Sam laughed, slapping the dashboard affectionately, "What would I do without you, buddy?"

"_You sir, would be nowhere."_

Although Bee's vocal processor mostly worked now (it still fizzled out sometimes), the mech still had a habit of conveying his emotions and messages through the radio. Even though most of his sound clips were obscure to Sam, the 'bot seemed to enjoy using them to communicate.

Sighing, Sam's playful manner turned serious, and he ran his hand over the center of the steering wheel, thumbing the Autobot insignia that lay there. "Man, doesn't feel like three years. A lot of stuff happened and it feels like a lot longer..." he paused, feeling a little embarrassed, "But you guys are my life now. Especially you, Bumblebee."

A little static came from the speakers, but then Bumblebee's own voice rang out, "You are the per-s-s-sson I care most about." His engine growled softly after his words, almost a purr.

There was nothing more to be said.

Some minutes later, Bee's radio came to life again, startling his charge, playing _"She wiiiill be loooooooved..."_

Sam looked up, his eyes resting on the form of Mikaela coming out through the door. His mouth was left a little ajar, and his brain short-circuited. Bee, however, opened Sam's door and gave the seat a little shake to get his attention again. Sam, pulled out of his stupor, stepped out the door in a hurry and rushed over to Mikaela, and grabbed her hands as he stepped back.

"Wow, I mean, wow. Mikaela! You look so great, you look just amazing! Of course you always look amazing, but wow, I don't even know if I actually handle watching you all night like that! Where did you get that dress? But then you always dress amazing, so I don't even know what I'm talking about, I don't even know how to dress, I mean–"

Laughing, Mikaela freed one of her hands and placed her index finger over top Sam's lips. "Hey, kid, you're embarrassing me here." She smiled. "Good to see you dressed up properly too."

He looked down on himself. He was, of course, also dressed up in a nice suit. But Mikaela's dark navy evening dress, with a slit to the thigh, her hair gathered up on top of her head, jewellery glittering and impressive heels just showed that he was nothing compared to her. Really, it always had seemed to him that men were simply accessories to the woman's outfit.

A honk from Bumblebee set the pair laughing. "I guess he wants us to get going!" Mikaela laughed.

To this, the yellow Camaro popped open both car doors, further urging the young couple to hurry on in. Sam waited for Mikaela to step in, and once the door was closed, he walked over to his side of the door. He placed his hands on the steering wheel, his hands on the 10 o'clock and 2 o'clock positions. Not that he was going to be steering: Bumblebee was going to be doing the driving, as Sam had no idea where they were going.

His engine roared to life, and with that, shot off into the road.

Looking out the windows, the pair was quiet, watching as the cars zoomed past (really, it was more like they were zooming past them) and watched as the road became quieter and darker. They were heading away from the city. As the lights of the city darkened, the stars in the sky brightened.

Mikaela squeezed Sam's hand (when did it get on Mikaela's lap?) and she whispered, "Do you have any idea where we're going?"

"Nope." He thought back on Bee's instructions. "Just was told to bring dinner and anything I needed to celebrate."

"Did you?"

"Of course! Brought a little wine, some food... well, okay, I did my best," coughing, he added, "At the very least, we won't starve."

Rolling her eyes, she added, "Beats me why they'd ask _you_ to prepare."

The silence from the yellow car finally broke, his voice intoning, "Almost there."

Looking out the window, they realized that there seemed to be no light coming at all from the side, until they caught on where they were. Or at least, sort of. The ocean. They were driving by the ocean.

Mikaela tried to look up from her window, having difficulties with the glare until Bee rolled the window. "Thanks, Bee." She looked out to the ocean, listening to the quiet rumble of the waves. Closing her eyes, she focused on the smell. Strange how the ocean of this side of the country was so different to the one she was used to back at home. Even smelled different.

The sound underneath Bee's tires was no longer the smooth roll of pavement, but rather, now was louder and it was bumpier. Soon enough, they could feel and hear the sand as they drove over it, and the Autobot slowed down his driving. Aside from where Bee's headlights touched, it was pretty dark and they couldn't really see much, although they could see darker shapes.

Finally rolling to a stop, Bumblebee opened both doors at once, and the pair stepped out. Sam looked around, and Mikaela frowned as she realized it was not going to be fun walking in sand.

"Sam."A familiar bass voice rang out, "Mikaela."

Turning around, they couldn't really see much aside from the piercing blue optics that belonged to Optimus Prime. They watched as he knelt down, bringing himself closer to their level. Some of the newer arrivals asked him why he nearly always knelt down to talk with the humans, and he always patiently responded that he saw the humans as equals, and that towering over them was not the best way to portray that.

"Optimus." Sam responded, and then asked, "So who's here?"

The Autobot leader looked past Sam, over to the darker shapes where certain Autobots sat in their alt forms. "Ironhide and Ratchet, of course, as they were here three years ago." He paused, thinking of the one mech that was missing. Jazz. Jazz who hadn't been able to taste the break of war, who had died before he could know the fate of the All Spark. His optics dimmed slightly, before they brightened again and he continued. "Arcee as well. She claimed this needed a femme's touch."

"Apparently not enough," muttered Mikaela as she pulled her shoes from her feet, holding them in one hand. As her feet sunk into the cool but soft with age sand, she couldn't help but smile. "So, what's going on? I thought me and Sam were gonna have a nice anniversary dinner, but you guys all look so serious..." she trailed off, frowning.

Behind her, the grinding and clanking sounds of Bumblebee transforming broke through the night. Following after the younger Autobot, the other three transformers also began to change, forming into their bipedal forms, with the exception of the blue Arcee, who had fallen into the habit of moving with one wheel in her alien mode. Bumblebee remained standing, towering behind the pair.

The low rumble of the serious leader's rare chuckle resonated, "Perhaps it would be best to ask Sam instead. We are gathered here at his request, and we are most honoured."

With that, Optimus stood up to his full height, and turned on the headlights on his chest, keeping them dim, but enough so the area was softly lit. The other Autobots made their way to them, circling the pair, their blue optics burning as brightly as they watched the two humans. The night was quiet, and as requested by Sam, they chose a place where they could be in their alien forms without too much worry, but still somewhere beautiful where they could see the stars.

Mikaela turned her bewildered gaze to Sam, who was smiling in a quiet way. Cocking her head to the side, it only left her more confused. She had never seen that expression of Sam's before. She watched him cautiously as he stepped forward, took one of her hands in his own, and kneeled on one knee before her, staring up at her.

"Mikaela," he sighed as he said her name, her beautiful name, "We've gone through a lot together. From discovering an alien race," he nodded towards Optimus, "To bouncing in the Egyptian desert," he thought of the late Jetfire's space bridge, "To nearly being separated forever. And you know what I've realized this past year?"

"What?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"What am I waiting for? I love you more than anything, and no one else could be my...my _wife_. Mikaela Banes, will you marry me?" At his words, Bumblebee knelt and lowered his hand down, opening his palm up beside Sam, who picked out the ring from his best friend's hand and looked up at Mikaela as Bee pulled his arm back up and rose.

Tears began to flood her eyes, as she murmured, "Of course. Yes. Yes!" Sam pulled the engagement ring lightly over her finger, kissing her hand before he stood up and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

The Autobots were as quiet as the stars above them, not even the whirring of their internal parts. As they witnessed the two below, they couldn't help but feel at peace. The rituals and reasons may be different, but love was the same all around.

Optimus glanced up from his gaze on the pair, looking up at the stars. Despite all the war and death, there was still goodness to be found.

* * *

**Author Note: **

I'll try to update at least weekly.

I'm horrible at remembering what songs are what, and half the time I forget lyrics. So any song lyrics from Bee are probably made up. If someone is amazing at this, feel free to message me and you can probably help me. EDIT: I totally forgot he mostly used movie sound clips, yay me. I'll be making up those too, unless I remember a really great line.

Also, if someone wants to be a Beta Reader for this, let me know. I tend to have typos and words missing that I think I type but forget.

Don't forget to review! Reviewing helps makes the story to what you want to read. =)


	2. Chapter 2

_One month later..._

Sam watched the professor talk, curiously noting how he could see his lips moving, yet nothing seemed to be reaching his brain. Oh well. Hard to pay attention when you're thinking about your fiancé. He smiled at that. Fiancé. It's already been a month, and all parents and friends have finally been notified. Some took it with surprise ("But you're so young!") and others simply smiled, their expressions one more of 'what took so long?' Lennox and Epps had clapped him hard on the shoulders, happily welcoming him into the world where "your wife owns you."

That sounded good to him.

He turned his gaze to the clock, willing the hands to move faster. Seriously, there must be some sort of weird time thing when you want time to go faster that causes it to go slower. Must ask Bumblebee. So he continued to stare at it, pretty much ignoring the entire class at this point. Slowly... slowly... there! The hand was on the hour! He started to grab his pencils, when he noticed the teacher was still talking.

"...and of course, the year that the Germans..."

Oh. Right. Sometimes, he still forgot that class wasn't attached to a bell that rang when it was over. Rolling his eyes, he waited for the professor to finish his lecture. He sounded like he was near the end, anyways.

Mikaela was going to get angry at him... but then, she knew that he was coming straight from class. They were going to meet for a drink before his last class of the day, so they could talk about a few things related to the wedding. She may know her cars, but Mikaela was no exception to most girls: she wanted her wedding to be perfect, and her planning was beginning now. Particularly, they were going to discuss the date of the wedding, and, well, the 'bots. It wasn't even a question that they wanted the Autobots to be present, but exactly how to go about that...

Sam frowned, glancing at the clock again. Come on! He began to tap his pencil impatiently against the desk, causing the professor to pause and look up at him. Blinking, he seemed to realize something, and the older man twisted his wrist to check the time.

"Oh, dear! Seems I've gone over! We'll stop here, and continue on next week..."

Without even waiting for the professor to finish giving out his homework, Sam had collected all his material, stashed it in his bag, and rushed out of the lecture hall. He half ran through the hallway until he was outside, and started to jog once out. He grumbled about Bumblebee having been called on a mission.

Deceptions, in general, seemed to have gone low-key. They still seemed to be after something, but if anything they, Optimus had told Sam, seemed to be feinting. Nevertheless, they kept after them relentlessly.

Looking down at his watch to check the time, he slowed down. He wasn't really that late. In fact, he could see the cafe where they were going to meet. Walking to the cross walk, he waved as he realized he saw Mikaela waiting for him outside the safe. She waved back. He looked both sides, and then darted across the road. Yes, jaywalking, illegal, he thought to himself, but he didn't care.

"Mikaela!" He called out as he walked over to her.

It all happened so fast.

Screech of tires.

Glass exploding.

His name.

Mikaela pushing him to the ground.

Millions and millions of shards, and red. And noise.

Screams and shouts, people ducking. The glimpse of a police car.

Pain, pain in his thigh.

Mikaela falling to her knees, grasping his face in her hands.

"Sam..."

And the world went dark.

x x x x

A loud bird kept chirping. It hurt, it was loud and piercing. But that wasn't what annoyed him, it was so repetitive... If only it would shut up...

x x x x

Murmurs. Voices. They pulled him out of the darkness, although he noted that the bird still wouldn't shut up. How annoying. He tried to open his eyes, but something pulled him back, enveloping him the darkness he somehow felt as safe...

x x x x

Voices pulled him out again.

"It's going to set him back. The shock will be too much."

"He's strong. He knows he's not alone."

"_They_ want to see him."

"How?"

"They're requesting to move him."

"I guess why not. There's nothing more to do."

Move him? Who's they? The questions just tired him out and pulled him back in.

x x x x

The annoying bird was gone, he mused to himself. Where did it go? He almost missed it... No voices this time, although, if he really concentrated, he could swear someone was touching him... his hand... Then a voice spoke.

"He's refusing to wake up."

"Give him time. He has to prepare himself."

"Sam..." that voice was different. Lower. Comforting.

x x x x

A prick woke him up, but the world still made no sense.

"It's been too long."

"He should wake up soon."

"How do you know?"

"I gave him something. It's time to face reality."

A lower voice, knowledgeable... "There is risk of a mental breakdown."

Another voice. Familiar bass. "Sam is strong."

"Quiet. Here he comes."

The heaviness that had seemed to be on his body seemed to have lifted. The dark still felt safe, warm. But something told him that it wasn't a good idea to stay there. He focused on the touch he could feel... his hand. Someone was holding his hand. Concentrating on that, he swam through the confusion. His eyes... they felt heavy, like they were made of stone. He placed all his focus on his hand, the touch of someone. Using that, he pulled himself further, and grasped the hand that was holding his.

"He squeezed my hand! Honey, honey, are you awake?" a familiar woman said. His mother. He used her voice as another hold.

The weight of his eyes was still there. But he realized they were closed now, knew there were people around him. With a surge of strength, he opened his eyes. Everything was blurry. He blinked several times to clear the film, but still unable to focus his eyes.

"Is he okay?" his mother asked, directing her question to someone else.

What was wrong with him? He closed his eyes again, and this time, he forced them all the way open. Oh. He hadn't been really opening them before. This time, the room fell into focus.

"Sam? Sam?" his mother asked.

"Hey, pal, how are you doing?" a male voice whispered. His father.

Blinking, he looked around. His mother was holding his hand; his father was near his head. He was in a bed, with an IV strapped to the inner part of his elbow. Frowning, he glanced around the white room. The door was open, but couldn't really make out what was there, except for a shadow. Where was he?... Oh. Some sort of hospital room.

"Sam. I know you must be confused," an unfamiliar voice started. He turned to face an older man, probably in his late fifties. He wore a doctor's coat. Probably his doctor. "How are you feeling? Any pain? Nausea?"

At the question, he thought about it. He wasn't in any pain, but he still felt kind of sluggish...

"You're under a pain-killer. We're reducing the dosage, anyways. Now that you're awake, you should start feeling clearer."

He frowned. There was a sort of dull ache in his thigh. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. Clearing his throat, he tried again, although his voice came out more like a croak, "My leg..."

"You should be able to feel a bit of an ache on your thigh. It's nothing to worry."

Oh, okay.

"Sam, do you know what happened?" The doctor asked.

"Maybe it's too early," his mom said, squeezing his hand.

But the doctor ignored his mother, and instead looked at him. He tried to think back. He remembered a lot of darkness. And a bird. An annoying bird. But he instinctively knew that wasn't what they were looking for. He dug further back, trying to make sense of something he remembered. Glass, he remembered glass. A blur of black and white, a police car. Mikaela.

"Mikaela. Where's Mikaela?" He looked around, trying to see if she was standing somewhere. No luck.

"Sam, what do you remember?" his father asked this time, worry thick in his voice.

"Glass, a lot of glass. Noise. A police car..." He thought he heard an angry low voice murmur 'Barricade.' "And Mikaela. Where is she?" he repeated the question, with more urgency in his voice.

"Sam, you're going to have to remain calm, if you don't, we'll have to sedate you, which we really don't want to do," the doctor began slowly. His mother squeezed his hand harder.

"Okay, here goes. Sam, you were going to meet up with Mikaela in a coffee house." Oh, right, he remembered that! Whatever happened? "When you crossed the street, a car raced past the street, shooting as it went. It hit you in the thigh. You bled a lot, but you've been fairly stable."

"Oh." It made sense, certainly fit with what he remembered. And Mikaela? He repeated it aloud.

"Son," the doctor began, "Mikaela pushed you out of the way, although you were hit in the thigh, Mikaela was... I'm sorry son, she didn't make it."

What? Suddenly, images began rushing into his mind. Red red red everywhere. Glass, a million shards. Screams, her shouting his name, grabbing his face. Oh god.

"No, no, no." There had to be some mistake, where was she? "She was okay, she didn't get hit. Where is she?"

A low whine seemed to come somewhere past the room, just outside the door.

"Sam, she's gone," his father said softly.

"Nonononono. We were gonna talk about the wedding. Where is she? Mikaela? Nononono..." he started to groan, and before he could go further, the doctor rushed to his side, pricked him yet again, and the darkness enveloped him again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author Note: **Thanks so much for all the reviews, favourites and alerts! I just hope I don't disappoint you all. This is your story as much as it is mine.  
This chapter didn't come out exactly like I wanted, but hopefully I'll make it up in the next chapters. =)

* * *

Sam felt a sharp jab in his arm. He ignored it. He didn't open his eyes, nor did he make any real indication he was even aware of the injection. He could hear his parents talking with his doctors, and he knew they were worried about him. Well, he felt a _little_ guilty. Sam couldn't quite remember why he was pretending to be asleep, but he knew it was for a good reason. Yep. A real good reason.

Well, he remembered being awake earlier, and that they had said things to him. But what?

"He is awake." A voice said. He recognized the voice, it was not human. Ratchet. What was he doing here?

"I know. He's pretending to be asleep," his doctor replied.

"You were warned of the risk of forcing him into consciousness."

"He's fine. He just needs to think about all of this a little."

"Sam?" Judy asked worriedly.

He considered answering. He kinda felt bad about pretending to be asleep when they were all so obviously worried. Although, he was kind of curious as to what they were talking about. Think about what?

"Should we tell him about the funeral?" His mother. Funeral? What funeral?

"It's too early for him. He's not strong enough," the doctor disagreed. Sam begged to differ. He'd like to see _him_ bring back a giant robot to life.

"Sam is strong," A baritone voice intoned. Optimus. His voice seemed to convey an ancient sadness. "He should not be denied his chance at farewell."

"Mikaela–"

Mikaela. His beautiful Mikaela. ("Listen to my voice... I love you!") Glass. Glass everywhere. The world shattering. Oh god. She was gone. She was dead. Gunned down. Killed. Gone forever–

"Stress levels are higher than tolerable. Heart rate is in the danger zone," Ratchet urgently interrupted.

"Sam? Sam, you have to relax."

An awful noise filled his ears, an animal sound. A wounded animal. Someone take it out of its misery.

"Sam!"

Oh. It was coming from him.

"We need to sedate him! I'm giving him..."

"No–" Optimus started, his voice startling Sam a little. But before he could finish what he was planning to say, Sam felt a light prick in his arm. His body loosened up (when did he curl up like that?) and his mind began to feel sluggish. Oh. Well, that sucked.

The voices continued. But he didn't care anymore.

x x x x

"Come on, Sam. Let's go!" Mikaela urged, grabbing Sam's hand and pushing him forward. He didn't budge.

Rolling her eyes, she let go and started to back up, until she was in the middle of the street. Where was he? Looking around, he thought he recognized a street near his university, but it wasn't quite the same. It was much too quiet, that was for sure. Frowning, he called out to her, "What are you doing there?"

"I'm waiting for you." She stretched out her arms, palms out, as if she were waiting for a hug.

"I don't know what you're up to, but it's not a good idea to stand in the middle of the street." He jogged over to her, grasping one of her outstretched hands. "Let's go." But she didn't move. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips brushing softly across his chin. "Mikaela..."

She didn't let go of him, but she pulled her head back and stared at him, a smile slowly forming. "I want to show you something. It's a secret."

But there wasn't any time for Sam to ask her what she wanted to show him.

The squeal of tires racing on pavement pulled his attention away, and a black and white police car was racing towards them. Even though it was much too far to read, Sam knew that he would find the sadistic version of the police motto on the car... _To punish and enslave. _Heart racing, he turned to Mikaela, "We have to go NOW! We _so_ do not want to be here!"

"No, no. Wait." She let go of him, and to his utter surprise, she turned towards the speeding car. Too late for Sam to do anything, the police car headed right for his fiancé. However, instead of running her over, the car came to a sudden stop, the screech of brakes overcoming his ears. The force of the abrupt halt threw Mikaela's hair back, the wind whipping it like flames, and she stared at the empty car for some time. Then she turned to him. "See? He can't hurt me."

Sam was dumbfounded.

"But I'll tell you a secret." She strolled to his side again, lips touching his ear, her whisper but a breath, "I'll tell you who really killed me."

"Wha-what are you talking about? You're right there!"

"Aw, you know better than that, Sam." Placing a finger on his nose, she tapped it lightly. "But I'll tell you: those autobot monsters you call your friends."

What was she talking about? Sam owed his life to the Autobots. Prime alone had saved his life twice... even giving his own for his. Bumblebee was his guardian and best friend. Grasping Mikaela's head between his hands, he looked hard into her brilliant blue eyes. "You sure you don't mean Decepticons? 'Cause those things have had us running all over the place. I think they just may have something against us," he laughed nervously, but he then turned serious. "Mikaela, do you know what you're saying?"

Roughly shaking herself free from his grip, a sharp laugh escaped her lips. "And where were they when I was being gunned down? Where were they when I needed them? _We _needed them?" She turned away from him, walking away, before sharply twisting, her eyes blazing, "I'm dead because of them. If they weren't here, I would be alive. You're nothing but a tool to them," she clenched her fists, "And I'm nothing to them but an insect."

"Mikaela..." he began.

"No! Don't you get it? You keep doing everything for them, you've put your life on hold for them, and they bring you nothing but pain, war and death. If they had left you alone, you wouldn't have been targeted, and I wouldn't be in the ground in pieces somewhere!"

But Sam couldn't answer. Faster than he could he even breathe, a yellow shape came out from nowhere to sweep Mikaela in a giant metal hand. Bumblebee. His guardian, his friend. Sam was relieved to see him.

But the alien tightened his fist around Mikaela, crushing her in his grasp. Opening his hand, her lifeless body fell to the floor, seeming no more than a lifeless doll. The yellow mech looked up towards Sam, his war mask on, not a bee, but a hornet.

Deadly.

"NO!" he shouted, shaking himself awake, drenched in sweat. Twisting in his sheets, his body shot up and his eyes opened at once. A dream. A nightmare. But he hadn't really woken up, because reality was much worse. Mikaela was still dead. Dropping back down onto his pillow, groaning as he grabbed his eyes with clenched fists, his body quivering with a sudden weakness.

"Sam...?" A worried voice trailed, a voice that didn't belong to a human. Alien.

He wasn't crazy. At least, not yet. He knew that Bumblebee hadn't hurt Mikaela, that he would've protected her if he had been there. And yet, a part of him cringed away against the Autobot's voice. ("I wish to stay with the boy") Where _had_ he been? Hadn't it been irresponsible to leave them defenceless with the Decepticons still at large...? No, that was stupid. Sam couldn't expect to have him around 24-7. He could protect himself... well, more like keep himself alive. Except... he hadn't. Not really, not with Mikaela gone.

Anger began bubbling up. His breathing became unsteady. He wasn't really sure who exactly he was angry at, but he knew he had to get up. No more lying around, he just couldn't think like this. Circles and circles and circles. He had to get out.

Shaking hands threw his sheets aside, leaving his leg bare as he looked down at his thigh. It was tightly bandaged and when he touched it, he couldn't help but wince. But it wasn't any more serious than his injuries back in Egypt. Broken bones, sloughed off skin and heavy burns. So he flipped his legs over the bed with difficulty, grimacing when his thigh protested. It was nothing.

Eyes surveyed his room, trying to see if he could anything to use to help him walk. His luck played out again, as he caught the metal glint of crutches leaning near the bathroom entrance. Obviously they (not that he knew exactly who 'they' were. His doctor, yes. Ratchet? His parents? Someone else?) were preparing to give him mobility. But they were all the way there, and he was all the way here. A bit of a puzzle. Frowning, he looked down at his feet, hanging just above the ground. Sucking in air, he placed one foot on the cold floor.

Sam hopped onto his foot, lost his balance and hissed when he threw his weight down on both feet. He shut his eyes tightly, willing the pain to fade. His thigh throbbed, and he could feel the wounded surface of his leg object against the sudden movement, the bandage rubbing against the raw surface. The unexpected noise of a heavy foot being set down made him start, but it gave him a distraction to hold on instead of the sharp pain.

"Sam, maybe this isn't a good idea..." the yellow alien murmured, setting a shadow at the doorway as he tried to peek through, bright blue optics glowing.

And again, his body winced at Bumblebee's voice. He planned to ignore him, but then thought better of it. "You better not let anyone know I'm up." The mech didn't answer, and Sam didn't know if that meant he already did or if he simply disapproved of the request. Which meant he had to do this fast, or it wasn't going to happen at all. Holding his breath, he began to shuffle towards the crutches, ignoring the sharp stabs of pain that each movement brought.

A low whine from the scout distracted him long enough to take a few longer strides, letting go of his trapped gulp of air in a rush as he grabbed the two crutches. Finally relieving the pressure on his thigh, he realized he was almost too tired to try leaving.

No. He was getting out. Now.

It took him a few strides to catch on to the trick with the crutches and limped towards the entrance. But when he neared the shadow, a sudden fear froze his body. Bumblebee, it was just Bumblebee... His friend, his keeper, not a giant metal alien that could easily kill him with no effort at all. No grabbing him, tearing him apart as he did the metal jaguar, Ravage... (White metallic skeleton, a crack and sucking sound as he was torn apart, thrown aside...)

"Sam...?"

"Just... just move away, okay? I can't... I mean..." His breaths came out in sharp pants, his hands clenching his crutches so hard that his knuckles were turning white. He knew he hurt Bee, he knew that he didn't understand... (Not a bee, a hornet, not harmless...) But when the shadow moved away from the door, Sam pushed himself out the door as fast as he could, away from where he knew the scout would be crouching.

Bumblebee made no move to follow. He only watched as his fearful charge limped away without a second look. He was tempted to call someone, but decided against it. Sam needed some time to himself, not closed up in a little white room without even a window. The little office had been refitted into a care room for Sam, but it was no home.

So the yellow mech stayed where he was, following Sam with worried optics.


	4. Chapter 4

The heavy sense of guilt that now dominated his thoughts tormented him. Ever since Optimus found out about the attack, he often found himself frequently drifting off into his thoughts. Grief wasn't new to him. He had lost soldiers under his command, he had lost comrades and friends of many thousands of years, and he had all too many times witnessed the brutality and violence of war. But the death of the human youngling pulled at him in a way he had not experienced for a very long time.

Maybe it was because she had been young, her life only just started. Or perhaps because she had not been a soldier, or even involved in the war the way Sam was. Innocent and fragile, vulnerable. But war made no exceptions.

When his sensors came alive, alerting him to the advancing form of a smaller black and white form, he didn't move in acknowledgment, choosing instead to simply study the cloudless sky. The shorter mech slowed to a stop just behind the Autobot leader, waiting for a moment before he spoke.

"Sir."

Optimus didn't turn, instead, his optics remained fixed on the skies. "Prowl, what can I do for you?"

The smaller mech was somewhat bigger than the late Jazz, but still one of the smaller Autobots. He had a distinctive v-shaped formation on his forehead, and his body the black and white of a police car from his alt-mode. "Barricade's gone under our radar again. We can't find him."

"I see." He turned to face his tactician, optics dimming. "And Bumblebee?"

Prowl shifted his weight uncomfortably, the creak of moving metal rising from within his body. "We were able to convince him that a blind hunt right now would be in vain. He was not pleased, and he did not wish to cooperate at first."

"Oh, Bumblebee..." Optimus murmured wistfully. He turned to face the sky again. So different from the Cybertronian sky, and yet, just as beautiful.

"Ratchet suggested to him that he remain near Sam. Keep him out of trouble." Prowl watched his doleful leader. Sombrely, the tactician began, "Optimus, while I understand that the boy has, in the past, been extremely useful, perhaps it's no longer the logical use of resources..." The red and blue mech had turned to look at him, his optics hard and intense on his. Although not exactly sure if the best course was to continue, he did. "...as he may no longer be useful to us."

Prowl was Optimus' best tactician and logistician, extremely gifted at strategy and utterly irreplaceable. But he wasn't known to be the most empathic mech around, and as a recent arrival, was still acquainting himself with their human allies. Laying a hand on the smaller mech's shoulder, Optimus shook his head lightly. "Sam is more than a mere tool to us. He is our ally and our friend." Letting go of Prowl, he faced the open air again, hands behind his back as he surveyed the airfield. "Sam will need us."

x x x x

Moving as fast as he could, Sam did his best to put distance between himself and Bumblebee, away from his room and the Autobot. Once he realized he wasn't actually being followed, he stopped to glance back behind him, and to his great relief, couldn't see the giant yellow alien anywhere. Sighing, he took the chance try to make sense of where he had gotten himself. He was outside, obviously, and what looked like some sort of airstrip, a runway. There was a cluster of fighter jets resting nearby.

He had no idea where he was. Just a little lost, just maybe.

It didn't really worry Sam. He was on a closed-off base who-knows-where, the (not so) top secret headquarters of the Autobots and NEST. Talking to himself, he muttered, "I'm on a freaking island. There's only so lost I could get. I'll find someone." So he took the chance to explore and really look around. He wandered towards the jets.

Sam didn't really know much about military vehicles, including the various aircraft. Although the fighters looked sort of familiar to him, he had no idea what they were exactly. Maybe he should start learning– obviously he was stuck in this war. ("This isn't my war.") Apparently it was his destiny to regularly be running away from exploding things and evil giant metal aliens. Maybe he should take up track.

Mikaela's face kept popping up in his mind, but he kept fighting it. He wasn't ready to face what that meant. He could feel it nipping at his heels, whatever it was that wanted to overcome him. So he focused on the jets.

Walking to the side one of the raptors, he held tightly to one crutch and held the other snug under his armpit, laying his free hand on the cool metal. Deadly, one of the best the military had, he knew that much. Funny how it was nothing compared to the Cybertronians. A child's toy. Actually, when he thought about it, the plane was _awful_ familiar. It was much plainer, but he thought it looked just like...

Starscream.

He jerked back as he if he had been shocked, his hand still outstretched. Starscream. (The earth was shaking, trees flying, a vicious voice hissing, "Come here, boy!") He could still see it. He could still feel it, the fear and terror that now froze his body. He tried to take a step back, but he lost his balance and hung onto his crutches. A blade piercing through, cutting the car in half, screams. Screams everywhere. Mission City. The university library. Mikaela. He could hear her piercing scream, just like when the world exploded in glass, chilling him to the bones.

It wouldn't stop. Fear in everyone's eyes. Shouts and yells. The piercing screech of metal bodies clashing together. Make it stop make it stop make it stop.

The ground rose up to meet him as his hands clamped over his ears, his arms curled around his head. The fall didn't even register, his thigh throbbing. Shutting his eyes, he tried to stop the rush of images that raced across his mind. Megatron. Starscream. Blackout. Barricade. And so many more faces he couldn't even name, didn't recognize. But they were all the same, all angry, all sharp and gleaming. And glowing red eyes, the eyes that pierced into his nightmares.

But the faces changed. Instead of the foul faces of the Decepticons, they transformed into the faces of the Autobots. Just as deadly, just as lethal. Optimus as his cruel hooks tore apart the alien face, ruthless in his fight. Bumblebee as he grasped the ends of the robotic jaguar, a sickening crack and a sucking sound as the wet skeleton was pulled out. Tossed aside like nothing more than mere trash.

They were all the same. His body curled into itself, his arms clamped around his head even tighter. He couldn't stop the continuous rush of death in his mind. Autobots. Decepticons. Always the aliens, always the colossal metal beings that destroyed, destroyed, destroyed. Collateral damage, that's what they all were. Collateral damage.

"No, no no..." he heard himself groaning. But the sound startled him, breaking into wherever his mind had gone. The rush of rumbling air of a plane penetrated even further, reminding him of the world outside, shaking him out of his stupor. Wha... where was he...? His breath came out heavy, and he dropped onto his back, straightening out his exhausted body.

What was wrong with him?

Groaning as he rolled onto his side, he pulled his hands underneath him to support his weight. It was then when he caught sight of his bloodied hands. Frowning, he inspected one hand. It stung, and it looked ugly, but it was just a little raw... maybe when he fell to the floor. Wasn't bad, but certainly didn't look pretty. Great, just great.

Searching the floor, he looked for his lost crutches. They had fallen some feet away, so he slowly half-dragged half-crawled towards them, cursing quietly under his breath. So he had a little fit... that was normal, wasn't it? They'd made him go to a counsellor before, after the whole Egypt thing. The powers figured he might have some issues after being nearly being blown up and dying. They reckoned the whole being-brought-back-to-life-by-dead-aliens might've traumatized him.

Same thing, right?

But it wasn't. Mikaela was dead this time. And she wasn't coming back... Killed by aliens. Gone forever.

Sam felt sick. Ignoring the throbbing pain of his leg, he pushed himself up, using the crutches as support. A little wobbly, maybe, but at least he was up. And he had to leave, before he had some sort of repeat... episode. He tried not to look at the jets as he hobbled away.

So when he emerged from within the planes and the openness of the runaway enveloped him, he couldn't help but let go of the breath he hadn't even been aware of holding. Of course, he just had the little problem of having no idea where he was. Where had he come from? Did he even _want_ to go back to that room?

"Hey, man, you alright there?" a man clad in camouflage asked, stopping near Sam. A soldier. Sam started, but he recovered fast.

"Oh, um, yeah." Sam tried to give his most innocuous grin. "Just, you know, getting a bit of fresh air. Pretty good stuff, right? I mean, I know it's India, it's hot, but it's good hot."

A frown. "If you say so. You're Sam, right? If you're wanting to go back, it's that-a-way." He nodded in the right direction. "You sure you're all right?" But he lifted his hand when Sam opened his mouth, and laughed quietly. "Okay, okay, I'm going."

With a final clasp to the shoulder, the soldier smiled. "Hang on in there, kid." And with that, he turned on his heel and strode away.

After some time loitering, Sam had wandered over to a group of soldiers who seemed to be waiting for something. It was obviously an informal gathering, as they were talking amongst themselves and actually managed to seem disorganized, something he didn't think really happened with the military. The men didn't really seem to care he was there, so he decided he might as well stay. From what he could catch, whatever was going to happen seemed like it could be interesting.

Looking back, he couldn't really remember what came first. It may have been his stomach first, as if he were punched in the gut. It may have been the earth shaking underneath his feet, or maybe it was the piercing blue optics staring straight at him, as if he could see his soul. But whatever it was, he froze, staring at the silver-coated Autobot.

"Sam?" Sideswipe asked, slightly taken aback to see him there. He crouched down, so he was closer to the boy's level, before cocking his head to the side. "They've been looking for you. Bee said you went out."

But Sam wasn't listening. All he could see were the alien features of Sideswipe's face, the unfamiliar Cybertronian tattoos that were etched on his face. Arms that he knew would spring deadly swords– he knew of the Autobot's reputation as a fighting machine. He knew the mech wouldn't hurt him, he knew he was an ally, that he was an Autobot.

He couldn't stop the panic that seemed to take hold of his body.

Backing away clumsily, he tried to control the quiver in his voice. This was crazy. How many times had they protected him? Had Optimus not given up his own life for him? But he still couldn't stop the feeling that told him that Mikaela was dead, all because of them. Nervousness seeped into his voice. "Oh, um. Really? Well, that's just actually really cool, 'cause I was looking for them too. Yeah, and I'll just be going now..."

"Not so fast, kid." The quiet group of soldiers moved aside to let a familiar Major step forward. Lennox frowned, giving Sam a look over. "You look terrible. Where have you been?"

"Just out stretching my legs." Sam stole a look at Sideswipe. The Autobot was still watching the two men. He felt a shudder run through his body, and quickly returned his gaze to Lennox. "I'll go back now."

Lennox wasn't fooled. He wasn't still alive after all he'd gone through by being unobservant. He noticed the minute details, knew how and where to pay attention. So he didn't say anything when he observed the tremble. Nor did he ask about Sam's hands. "Yeah, well, they're in hanger 3."

"I can take you, Sam." Sideswipe added helpfully.

The mech's voice almost made him jump, but the meaning behind their words really hit him then. The _Autobots_ wanted to see him; it wasn't his parents or his doctor looking for him. He swallowed hard, fighting the bile that threatened to rise up his throat. The Autobots. Alone. With him. Shaking his head, he couldn't even look at Sideswipe, muttering "No, thanks. I can get there myself."

"You're exhausted. Just him take you," the Major disagreed.

"I'm good. Really." He tried not to think about it. "Might take me a little while, but you can tell them they're totally free to start on ahead without me. I won't be hurt."

"Sam–"

"Don't worry about me. I'll be a good boy." Without waiting for an answer, Sam did his best to leave with dignity, despite the crutches. He tried not to look directly at several following sets of eyes, not ignoring how they watched him stalk off. But despite the disapproval, he didn't hear anyone coming after him.

Nor could he see Lennox's uneasy gaze. There was something very wrong with the boy.

* * *

**Author Comments: **For those curious, this fic WILL have some action as well. =) (Who wouldn't want some good ol' metal-on-metal brawls?) And the Autobot roles will expand as the fic goes on. But remember, this story is about Sam's growth.


	5. Chapter 5

He meant to, he really did. But when Sam realized that he had absolutely no idea where he was going, there was just no way he was going to go out of his way to go find said hanger 3. Considering that he had no desire to go get lectured at by aliens, he decided he was going to do the smart thing:

Hide.

But exhaustion was starting to overcome his body. His arms were tired, and his armpits were sore. He just wasn't going to be able to go much further like this. But what could he do? By the time he sought out a wheelchair, he might as well found a hiding spot. But then, if he found a wheelchair first, he could possibly run away if found... Well, so long as his pursuers were in the human variety.

Where to start, though? The base was busy, but it wasn't cluttered, so where could he possibly hide? Maybe he could find someone to help him, but then, he didn't trust anyone not to give him away, particularly to the Autobots. Where? Sighing in frustration, he began to move, carefully inspecting his surroundings as he moved.

Ah hah. A convey of military vehicles were parked near one of the hangers, not exactly hidden, but they weren't out in the open. In the shadow too, which was a bonus considering the heat. (Was it always so hot?) Shuffling towards the jeep-looking cars, he first made sure no one was around before trying the door on the passenger side. Please be open please be open. It gave way.

With a cry of success, he crawled through the door, managing to hit himself, the door and various parts inside. But soon enough, he had slid down in the seat, trying to become as inconspicuous as possible. He had chosen the car closest to the wall, hoping that no one would really see him. He wasn't really sure how long he was gonna stay there, but he was planning on staying long enough that the Autobots would figure to give up for the day.

Yep. That was the plan.

But the heat and constant rumble of moving craft both on land and air soothed him to a half sleep, and his eyes became heavy. He didn't want to sleep. He knew what faces he would see. Unfortunately, the exhaustion on his body overcame his will, and before he knew it, he had slipped into a daze. Not really awake, not really asleep. His mind wandered.

Voices spoke to him. Faces raced across his mind. But his uneasy sleep did not last long.

"Yo, shorty. What you doin' there?"

"Uh..." Sam sat up, his hands clearing out the sleepiness out of his eyes. Looking out the window, he gave a startled yell. "What the–! What are you doing here? You nearly gave me a heart attack! I really don't need any more death prospects, what with half the alien population wanting to kill me!"

"Don't get ya panties in a bunch." Skids rolled his eyes.

"Boss 'bot looking for you. We was told to bring you if we found you." Mudflap added.

"What? No no no no! You didn't see me, okay? I'm not here. You're still looking for me." Somehow, the constantly dazed look of the twins didn't quite seem to set him off. Or maybe it was that he had an armoured car for protection in between them. Either worked.

"We ain't that stupid, y'know."

"Please, just don't tell anyone!" Sam begged, shouting through the glass.

The two twins looked at each other, and then shrugged their shoulders in unison. They weren't even invited to the meeting anyways, and it was a _little_ insulting. "Fine, won't tell no body." The small green Autobot bent down, sticking his face almost right up against the glass. "What are you doin' here anyways? Doctor's looking for you too. You've got no brains." Opening his mouth to say more, he was unceremoniously interrupted by the sudden push of his red twin, taking his place.

"Move it, ugly!" He seemed to give the Autobot equivalent of a raspberry to his grumbling brother before turning to Sam. "You're gonna get found out. Not the best place to hide, we found you easy."

"I will with the two of you jabbering like that. Get out of here!" Sam motioned with his hands, waving them off. But the twins were stubborn.

"Well–" One of them began.

"GET OUT OF HERE!" Grasping the handle, he suddenly threw the door open, forcing the two Autobots to scatter away in order to avoid being hit.

"Okay, okay! We're going, we're going! Jeez." Both Cybertronians transformed back into their alt-modes, in their respective green and red cars. As they drove away, Sam could just hear one of them mutter, "Whatever's crawled up _his_ butt?" They sped off, leaving black tire marks on the ground as proof of their speed.

"Finally. Thought they'd never leave..." Sam grumbled, shutting the door again. He hoped that the whole commotion hadn't caught anyone's attention. He laid back, his hands resting behind his head and closed his eyes. His thigh was pounding with abused pain, probably from all the walking. Opening his eyes again, he proceeded to roll up his pant leg, in order to observe his injury. He hadn't really got a good look at it.

It was well bandaged, gauze tightly wound. He debated whether it was smart (or clean) to remove it. But he was curious. If he had got shot (even if the bullet had gone through) shouldn't he, well, probably not be moving around so much? Carefully, he unwound the string of bandage, until his pale leg was revealed. Sam didn't really know what he was looking for, but if anything, it resembled more of a burn than a shot. Frowning, he simply stared at it.

"_There you are!"_ a disturbingly familiar radio played, the voice of some unknown actor from any number of films. Sam's head shot up, but he saw nothing. His head?

There was no such luck. (He actually _wanted_ to be hallucinating?) A brilliant yellow Camaro rolled up against the military vehicle, black racing stripes and all. Bumblebee. He blinked his head lights several times before speaking with his own voice. "Sam? What are you doing here?" Switching over to his radio, an angry father-like voice played, _"We've all been looking for you, son!"_

But Sam had frozen in his spot. Bee was just outside. Waiting.

"Are you ok-k-k-k-ay?" the worried mech asked, and as usual, frustrated with his malfunctioning voice processor.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, he nodded vigorously. "I'm good! Never been better." He tried to think of Bee as a car, tried not to think about the fact that it turned into a very lethal robot. One who's killed before. No, he was his friend, his guardian. A murderer, nonetheless. "I'll, uh, see ya later, huh?" Sam tried.

A noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort came from the yellow car beside him, a clip of some old film claiming, _"Not so fast! Think I was born yesterday, kid?" _The door popped open, beckoning Sam to enter. "_They're all waiting."_

Sam stared at the door, his thoughts rushing with no real sense through his head. He couldn't outrun him. Just a car, just a regular old car. A car that talked, was sentient and transformed into an alien. No, no. Just a car, a really cool-looking car. Holding that thought, Sam awkwardly placed the crutches on the ground and pushed himself out, his mind chanting a mantra of 'just a car just a car just a car' as he walked towards the Camaro.

Sitting down in the driver seat, touching the car's leather, he couldn't help but have to force bile back down his throat. He could feel sweat running down between his shoulder blades, his hands moistening. Just a car just a car. As he arranged the crutches beside him, the door closed itself, effectively sealing Sam inside the car. Trapped.

He had to force himself not to scream.

The engine revved quietly, like a purr, giving Sam the impression of someone tip-toeing as not to wake the baby. When the car rolled forwards, he kept his eyes straight ahead, picking a distant focal point to stare at, and tried not to think about how the car was driving itself. Because it was just a car, and cars don't do that. Throughout the whole ride, Sam simply stared ahead, his hands clenched together in his lap.

Bumblebee did not speak. His sensors were picking up on Sam's stress, how his heart was hammering, how his body had settled into the fight-or-flight mode, despite there being no danger. But there was, Bee had now realized. When Lennox had informed them on Sam's behaviour, his charge's reaction to him earlier that day made sense now.

Sam was afraid of him. Sam was afraid of them.

He fought the reaction to soothe the young man, to let him know that he would never, _ever_ hurt him. But he did, hadn't he? Because he hadn't been here to protect Mikaela and Sam, Mikaela had fallen victim to Barricade's attempt at a sniper attack. By allowing her to die, hadn't he destroyed a large part of Sam's heart? Hadn't he hurt him?

Bee's guilt ran deep, and although the others assured him that it hadn't been up to him, that he had only been following orders, it still didn't alleviate the horrible feeling of responsibility, the feeling that he could've saved Mikaela's life. And have protected Sam from the worst hurt of all. And his best friend wouldn't be nearly sick in fear of him.

So when he received an alert requesting his location and whether he had Sam with him from Optimus, Bee didn't answer straight away. Was this the best idea? He was terrified of them, quite possibly blaming them for Mikaela's death. Should he take him to the lions' den, so to speak? A second alert popped up, with a higher priority order, still from Optimus. So instead answering his query, the younger mech instead sent a clarification enquiry. Were they sure that it wouldn't do more harm than good to bring Sam?

MESSAGE IN QUEUE. PRIORITY ORDER OF 1. OPTIMUS.

He almost didn't want to read it.

TRUST US. BRING SAM.

Bumblebee had never been insubordinate. Not even before the war when he had been a simple sentry guard of the Allspark. Not when Megatron had ordered him so long ago to arrest Optimus, even though he knew that he was not guilty. He was a soldier, and he followed his orders. But now he doubted the decision of his superiors, considered turning around and hiding Sam himself. Protect him.

But he was the demon to Sam, wasn't he? It wouldn't be him protecting Sam, he would be kidnapping him. Did he not already feel him tremble in fear, did not already sense how his heart was thrashing? He would be doing Sam no favours by hiding him away. With a heavy spark, he discreetly picked up his speed, wanting to give Sam the chance to be free of him as fast as possible.

Feeling something in his spark he had never felt before, Bumblebee ran a quick diagnostic of his system. But it didn't find anything. But he realized that _he _had never hurt like this before.

It felt like someone had torn out his spark.

* * *

**Author Note: **For those curious, I'm going with the back stories of characters already established in the movie universe. i.e. those of the IDW comics including Alliance, Defiance, and Reign of Starscream. =) If a character hasn't been really established, then I'll use G1 characters with my own take.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam had managed to relax his body somewhat, no longer resembling a statue. He had an arm along the closed window, his fingers absently tapping the door as he looked out the window. It wasn't that he had overcome his fear, but more along the lines of the sudden limpness a trapped prey animal falls into right before death. His mind was relatively empty, just watching as the world blurred by. Not that there was much... mostly military cars, planes and people. But the landscape was kind of pretty.

Something tugged at him, reminding him that the silence hurt. Not just from the car-that-wasn't-really-a-car, but something else. Something more. A voice, an attitude that belonged to it. He didn't linger on it too much, as something was also warning him that it wasn't a good idea to dwell on it. So he let himself be distracted by the Autobot insignia that was etched into the centre of the steering wheel. Funny, he had never noticed how sad the logo looked. Almost like tears were running down the face. How depressing.

"How come the Autobot logo looks so sad?" he found himself asking aloud. Wincing, he waited for the inevitable answer. But several tense breaths later, no sound arose from the car's radio. Sam relaxed when he realized that Bumblebee wasn't planning on answering. Which was good, considering that he was still trying to convince himself that he was in a normal car. And normal cars don't talk back to you.

So when the Camaro came to a sudden stop, nearly throwing him out of his seat, he protested. "Hey! I like my forehead the way it is." The car didn't answer, simply opening the driver's door. Clumsily grabbing his crutches, he hopped out of the seat as fast as he possibly could, out into the hanger. In his haste, he didn't quite notice the unusual collection of good looking cars (that is, unusual until you realize they're Autobots) that were quietly parked around him until he had taken some steps away from the yellow car.

Freezing in his spot, he found that two emotions seemed to be clashing within him. On one hand, he had light amusement bubbling from him, recalling a certain memory. A whole bunch of cars, just sitting there? ("This isn't hiding! That's my backyard, _not a truck stop_!") But then, Sam could feel a tightness developing in his chest as he looked around at the four vehicles that surrounded him. (When did Bee move?) He was cornered.

No. These were his allies, they had put their own lives at risk for his enough times that he knew that they weren't going to hurt him. Looking at the semi, the Topkick, the rescue hummer and of course, the Camaro, he mentally kicked himself. They had been here since the beginning, all four of them, they had protected him. And of course, Optimus going so far as to give up his own life for his... what was wrong with him? He _knew_ them.

But Sam still couldn't stop himself from cowering when all four of them began to transform at the same time. The metallic screech as parts were shuffled around, the glint of metal of the shifting metal flared in his eyes. It was all familiar, and he used to welcome it, but now it sent a wave of terror down his spine, wincing each time he felt a heavy foot settle down on the cement ground. He couldn't watch any one Autobot for long than a breath before he had to pull his eyes way, finally deciding on watching the ground.

It took him a moment to realize that the hanger was silent, that the Autobots were watching him quietly, as still as stone. Sam looked up slowly.

"Sam." The baritone voice of Optimus vibrated through him, and Sam couldn't help but take a step back. The Autobot leader was directly in front of him, and Sam couldn't do anything but just stare at his feet, unable to bring himself to look up at the giant, up to a pair of glowing alien eyes. So when he heard the red and blue mech move, he instinctively looked up to find the red and blue mech bringing himself lower, kneeling on one knee to look down at Sam. The whole scene sort of reminded him of when he first met the Autobots.

Optimus tried again, his brilliant blue eyes capturing the human's, "Sam." But the boy was still reeling from the sudden proximity to a very large alien. Optimus let go of what seemed a sigh. "Sam, I am sorry, but it is crucial we speak with you."

"This meeting should have been postponed. Optimus, the boy's stress indicators are approaching worrying levels," an unconvinced Ratchet murmured quietly to his commander.

A low whine arose from Bumblebee.

The sound succeeded in shaking him from his trance. Ignoring the heavy feeling in his gut, he shook his head. "What? What is it? Need me to go get chased by Decepticons again? Or maybe getting nearly blown up wasn't good enough?" He couldn't help the anger that overtook his words.

"No, Sam. We are worried about you." Prime's eyes dimmed, looking away. "And we believe that you deserve to know the entire truth to this tragedy."

"What do you mean? What tragedy? And what's there to understand about getting shot at?" Sam asked, puzzled. But at the same time, something told him he was in a danger zone. That he should stop this while he still could.

"Memory repression. It is common among this species, particularly for traumatic events," the Autobot medic said.

"Memory repression? What are you talking about?" Sam demanded, turning from the medic to the quiet Ironhide back to Optimus. "What's he talking about?" But even as he spoke, a face flashed across his mind. He knew that face...

"You must remain calm, Sam." A pause. "What do you remember about what happened to you?"

Sam thought about that. Where'd it go? He knew what happened... why couldn't he remember it? Actually, now that he thought about it, he realized that he couldn't really recall the earlier part of his day either. He remembered something had happened to him, something before finding that group of army men and Lennox, but he couldn't think of what it was. Huh. Weird.

A series of electronic clicks and beeps attracted his attention, and Sam frowned. What _did_ happen to him? Looking down at himself, he stared at his leg and his crutches. He remembered someone telling him he was shot... or was he? Did anyone actually tell him that? Did he just assume that? Forcing it further, even though his instinct was urging to turn his concentration away, he remembered glass. A lot of it. A blur of black and white...

"Do you remember Barricade?" Optimus prompted softly, interrupting Sam's thoughts.

"Fragging slagger..." Ironhide mumbled to himself, his cannons whirling quietly.

Barricade? A police car. Ugly dirty gold sharp teeth, an angry voice yelling at him. He wanted his glasses. Being chased by him, Bee saving him... He shuddered at the memory of the two aliens fighting, the brutality of what he saw before Frenzy had grabbed at him... Sam hadn't been alone, he suddenly recalled, someone had been there with him. ...Mikaela...?

The Autobot prime continued. "For some time now, he has managed to elude detection, and each time we had some sort of lead, he disappeared again. Even for The Fallen's arrival he remained underground. We assumed he no longer was allied with Megatron." Optimus looked away again, but he glanced back to Sam. "A terrible mistake. We had underestimated Barricade."

Where were they leading with this? Sam didn't remember seeing Barricade, not since that highway chase three years ago.

"Sam, the day that you were to meet Mikaela at your university, Barricade made an attempt to assassinate you." At Sam's sudden empty expression, Optimus stopped, worried optics fixed on Sam.

"In order to avoid attention, to prevent us from being attracted to a large-scale attempt at assassinating you, he strove to take you down using the least minimal force necessary." A different voice continued this time, and Sam recognized it as Ratchet's.

Optimus picked up the narration once more. "In his haste, his aim was poor and while you escaped with minimal injuries, Mikaela had not." Optimus' low voice was impossibly soft. "She died before she could receive help."

But Sam had stopped listening.

"By the time we were made aware, we had lost Barricade's trail."

Sam couldn't hear anything. All he heard was the blood rushing in his ears. Unable to break free from Optimus' gaze, he took several steps back, his voice a low murmur. "No, no, no..." The monster that had been nipping at his toes finally broke through, and Mikaela's voice rang in his mind. She no longer was safely contained in a corner of his brain. She was gone. Killed by an alien... he didn't even really care who killed her, that didn't matter. All that mattered was that he'd never get to see her again, hear her laughter, or hold her hand. Kiss her lips. She was gone.

"Sam, you must listen." Optimus urgently said, his bass voice managing to break into his thoughts. "You are not alone. Sam, please remain calm."

He had no intention of calming down. How could he calm down? Mikaela was gone; she had been murdered by ruthless aliens. Aliens like the ones that stood from him now, staring down at him. Not alone? A rough laugh rolled from his lips, his angry eyes on Optimus' own. "I'm not alone? How can you ever say that? Mikaela, she–" his voice broke. He took a deep breath before turning away, intending to leave, but then he abruptly twirled to face them again. "This is all your fault! You just couldn't leave me alone, could you? All 'Save the world, Sam!' and 'Tell everyone how good we are, Sam!' Did you ever think about ME? What about Mikaela? Oh, just collateral damage? Good thing your little puppet wasn't killed?"

None of the Autobots said anything, quiet as the stars they came from.

Sam's anger was stronger than his fear, and even though he still wanted to pull away, run away from the giants that could just step on him to shut him up, he continued. "Why did you have to come at all? You've done nothing but ruin my life, and when something good _did_ come from all that, you manage to ruin that too!" His breath was heavy, and his knuckles were white with the strain that he had his fists clenched over his crutches. "You're all just as bad as those Decepticons you fight! You're all killers, you're all the same!"

Ratchet and Ironhide seemed taken aback. Bumblebee flattened his antennas against his skull, his shoulders drooping. Optimus drew himself lower, a deep sadness and understanding in his voice as he spoke. "Sam. We understand–"

But Sam didn't let him finish. "NO! I don't want to know! Leave me alone, leave me ALONE!" He heard shuffling from behind him; Bumblebee was moving, giving him space to leave. Turning around, he threw himself forward with his crutches, leaving as fast as he could possibly move himself. His words still rang in his ears, along with Mikaela's face. She was gone... he was never going to see her again... Gone...

Bumblebee took a step forward, his metallic hand reaching out for his broken charge. Optimus stood up, and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "He must come to terms with reality." He felt Bee loosen, and drew his arm back.

"He will not forgive us." Ironhide said, his voice amazingly soft for such a gruff exterior.

"We must give him time." Optimus answered, glancing back down to Bumblebee.

For Sam's sake, for Bee's sake, Optimus hoped that Sam would realize that the Autobots had not abandoned him. That he was no mere puppet to them. He was their friend, a part of their family, despite coming from different planets, despite being alien to each other. They all had grieved for Mikaela, and that they continued to grieve for Sam, with Sam. The loss of a mate was no idle matter, and they all knew that.

Optimus knew that most deeply.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author Note: **Thanks so much for all the alerts and reviews! I'm still very surprised for such a positive response, and I hope I don't disappoint. You all inspire me. =) And remember, I appreciate any comment or critique you may have- that's how I learn.

* * *

Sam hobbled as far as he could from the hanger, without any real destination in mind. It was when the sky started to darken and his arms were screaming in exhaustion that he began to think about going back to his own room. Not that he wanted to go back. Swallowing hard, he fought the sick feeling that developed in his gut whenever anything reminded him of... what happened. Mikaela... He could see her face now, her face as she stared down into his, almost a pleading look. He could still feel her hands on the sides of his face. Warm.

Why? Just... why? They had made it this far, they had survived the original onslaught of the Decepticons; they had survived the arrival of The Fallen. He had even been brought back to life by the ancient Primes. So how could it be that such a low key attack actually managed to succeed? Maybe they hadn't got _him_, but getting Mikaela was... well, it was worse. His breath caught, and had to cut his thoughts short, shutting his eyes tightly.

He could almost convince himself she was still alive. That she was just out for the day, out for an errand. That he would be able to smooth back her silky hair, kiss her lips lightly and make her laugh with his stupid comments. Sam could still hear her voice, could see how her lips jutted out as she focused hard on something, thinking. Oh, his beautiful Mikaela.

She had trusted the Autobots with her life, and so had he. But they failed Mikaela. Because they hadn't considered the two important enough to watch out for, she had paid the ultimate price. Hadn't they done enough for those aliens to be considered important? Hadn't Sam pretty much dedicated his life to the Autobots at this point? Wasn't that enough? He felt rage begin to seethe from inside him, and he opened his eyes abruptly. He was done. He was done dealing with aliens, done with the freaking war. Just done.

Sometime later, Sam finally found his way back to his room, and when his parents and doctor jumped on him as to where he had gone, he just ignored them. He didn't say a word as his doctor changed the gauze around his leg, and replaced the various bandages and pads that were also on his face and arms. Sam saw the looks they gave each other, but still he ignored them. They disapproved of his outing, saying that he put too much stress on his body. But he didn't care.

When his doctor insisted on giving him his dose of painkillers, he refused it. The sharp sting of his leg distracted him, distracted him from the even worse pain that originated from his chest. He felt empty. Hollow, as if he was going to collapse on himself. So the constant pain of his leg reminded him that he was still here, gave him an anchor.

After all the fussing, when the doctor had left, after he had forced his parents to leave him, he laid his head back on his pillow and tried not to think. It was all wrong, just wrong. He felt like he was watching his own life now, with no real desire to take control back. What was the point? Sighing, he turned his head towards the door, which he had demanded that they close.

Sam's thoughts had drifted back to Mikaela, and he fell asleep to the sound of her voice.

x x x x

Over the following week, Sam refused to leave his room. Despite his parents' insistence, he still didn't move. After a couple of days, a sympathetic Epps had brought him an MP3 player, and later, although no one admitted to it, someone had brought in a TV for the depressed boy. So Sam spent most of his days either listening to music, or mindlessly staring at the TV, uncaring of what he was watching. He didn't speak much, keeping it to the essentials and preferring to answer in either 'yes' or 'no.'

Worry for Sam kept mounting.

They first tried to bring in a therapist, but Sam ignored her, so then they brought in a psychiatrist, but it was no different, and he refused the antidepressants that had been prescribed to him. The first person that mentioned the Autobots to him was rewarded with a tossed bowl of food, but after that, whenever the transformers were mentioned, Sam simply pretended that he hadn't heard anything. Although he had no proof, and no one certainly mentioned it, Sam felt he was always constantly being watched by the Autobots. The thought sent shivers down his spine and he just wished they'd stay away from him.

So the day that Sam requested that he be brought back home, no one was surprised. They agreed to grant his request.

Sam had been daydreaming when a little buzz originating from his cell phone pulled him out, a text message. Grabbing the small cell, he stiffened when he read the message: 'Will u come say bye?' There was no number it originated from; all it said the sender was 'The Bee.' Without a second thought, Sam turned off his phone and stuffed it in the small duffel bag that carried his few possessions. He didn't feel bad about not answering.

"Are you sure about this?"

The voice startled him, and Sam whirled around to see an apprehensive Lennox. He relaxed. Turning away from the Major, he stared at the bag on the bed. "Yeah."

Lennox hesitated, unsure. "They _are_ worried, you know. The Autobots."

Sam didn't answer.

"Don't you want to say good-bye?"

Still no reply.

"All right." Lennox shook his head lightly before turning to leave, but he paused, twisting his head to look at him as he spoke, "After all you've done, that's it? Just giving up? Do you really think that's what Mikaela would want from you? Locking yourself away and pretending all this didn't happen? That the Autobots don't exist?"

Sam stopped re-arranging the contents in his duffel, before muttering, "What do you know about losing someone?"

That was too much for Lennox. He shot towards Sam, grabbing one of his shoulders, staring sharply down at the boy. "What do _I_ know about losing someone? I've lost friends I would've given up my own life for. I've seen them blown up right in front of me. So don't say I don't get it. I do." He let go. "If you want to throw away everything you've built, fine. But don't think that won't have repercussions outside your own life–particularly, the Autobots."

Shrugging his shoulders, Sam answered indifferently, "They can find a new puppet."

"Puppet? You think–" But he didn't finish his infuriated thought, instead sharply turning away with a frustrated sigh. Giving Sam one last look, he shook his head again in disappointment before striding away without a second word.

His sudden departure startled Sam a little, but he didn't dwell too much on it. There weren't really a lot of things nowadays that he cared about.

So he dropped himself onto his bed by his bag, and stared at the ceiling. He liked to count the bumps.

x x x x

Bumblebee watched from a distance as Sam boarded a small plane, his parents following close at his heels. He watched as the door was closed shut, and as uniformed men in colourful clothes began signalling to each other. His dimmed blue optics were fixed on the plane as it began to roll away, straightening out on one of the many runaways of the base. As the engines began to roar to life, he froze in place and his own internal whirring began to slow as the jet began to pick up speed.

For a being that lives millennia, for one that lives thousands of years, a brief passing moment is nothing compared to the length of their life, just but a breath, something that wouldn't register among the thousands of breaths a single life would have over the entirety of their existence. Bumblebee might not take breaths, and although his memory was perfect and could recall any moment with great detail, many moments simply just became part of the backdrop. Not this one. As Sam's plane roared overhead and soon disappeared in the sky, Bee knew that his feelings of guilt, of failure, and of grief, his anguish would never be simply processed away in his memory, to remain remembered, but forgotten.

Sam started off as his charge, as the one who had the glasses that contained the coordinates to the Allspark, but he became much more over the years. He became Bumblebee's friend, his... Bee had started to count him as his brother. The fact they were alien to each other, that they had been born in different planets, different worlds– all that meant nothing. To Bee, Sam had become his brother, a part of what he considered his family.

So as he stared at the place in the sky he had seen the plane, he felt an ancient yearning. As if something had been torn from him, and he'd forgotten how to live without it, now that it was gone.

"Bumblebee? What are you doing here?" a voice questioned behind him in Cybertronian. The electronic beeps and tones were soft, feminine. Arcee.

"Sam left." Bumblebee answered back in English. He turned to face the blue coloured Arcee, studying the tattoos that covered her body. They were battle etchings that spoke of ancient prayers to Primus, to protect the wearer in battle. Many of their kind had such engravings on various parts of their bodies, some prayers, others phrases and names that reminded them what they were fighting for. She had lost her main unit, the pink one. Her purple one had been seriously damaged and still not online. Ratchet was still on it. "What's_-s-zzt-_ it like, losing two-thirds of your structure?"

Rolling closer, Arcee (or her Chromia counterpart) settled herself beside Bumblebee, scanning him as she did so. He didn't look so good. "Hey! I plan on getting Elita-1 back." At Bee's silence, she continued, slipping back into her native Cybertronian as she did so. "My processors, at first, couldn't compute the change. Kept running subroutines that were never completed, and my memory files were fragmented. Ratchet helped me pull the necessary indexes from my other two units, but even then, even now, still have some incomplete processes." She stopped. "But that's not what you're looking for."

The soft whirr of internal components coming online filled the silence, and Bumblebee turned to look at Arcee, looking down at the smaller frame. For a moment, it seemed like he might have said something, but instead he stepped past her and swiftly transformed back into his sleek alt-mode. Before the last pieces melded together, the mech was already rolling away.

"Wait! Bumblebee!" Arcee cried out after the speeding yellow form. "Optimus wants to talk to you!" But the Camaro didn't answer. She tried to send out a message over the internal frequencies.

CONNECTION FAILED. ACCESS DENIED.

"Little slagger." The younger Autobot had blocked her, preventing her from sending messages. She considered going after him, but what could she do? She couldn't force him to do anything he didn't want to do. Glancing up at the sky, she tried to scan for the jet she knew wouldn't be there anymore. Over the year, she'd gotten to know Sam and Mikaela; although she hadn't quite got to know them the way some of the mechs had, she had grieved when she had heard of the female's death. Although she didn't quite understand the rationale behind the boy's actions, she agreed with Optimus' order to give him his space, unless specifically asked for. Bumblebee had taken Sam's sudden avoidance of him hard.

She felt bad for him. He had spent many years on the lonely planet of Earth and when he had met Sam, the two befriended each other quickly enough. And now, to be ignored by this little fleshling, even after all they had gone through together? But it was more than that, she knew. It wasn't even Sam's anger that had dug so deep, it was his fear: his fear of the Autobots, his fear of _him._

Arcee let out a series of clicks and beeps that were the equivalent of a sigh. Her body began to shift, the sound of shifting metal breaking into the dusk quiet. Alien or not, Sam was a part of them, and while she did not feel the anguish that Bee –and perhaps even Optimus– felt, she did feel a great sorrow.


	8. Chapter 8

Home had never really been home ever since Bumblebee had blown up his house. Okay, part of his house. (Ironically, his room took the brunt of it) True, his parents took the chance to re-model the house, make it bigger (his own room was a good deal more spacious) and add more gadgets that they really didn't need. As his father constantly reminded him, it had all been on the government's check– why not take advantage? But all it did was make Sam a stranger to his own home, and since he hadn't spent much time home due to school, he had never really made his peace with it. He had no home. Or it felt like it.

Sam stood in the doorway of his room, simply staring at the space. A stranger in his own home. Maybe it was a good thing. He didn't have to remember the first time Mikaela had met his parents, nor the times after that she had been in his room. That was, before it was utterly destroyed. Not very many of his original possessions survived the barrage, so the room was fairly empty of personal objects. He took a slow step in, his crutches clacking against the hardwood, breaking the silence. He didn't really need them anymore, but walking on his injured leg still stung him, so Sam usually kept them with him.

His duffel was on the bed, where his father had deposited it before Sam had gone up the upper floor of the house. They were worried, his parents, but Sam appreciated the space that they were giving him. He didn't really have it in him to try to act sort of normal for them. Sighing, he sat down on the bed, letting the crutches fall to the ground, wincing as they hit the floor with a loud clatter. He wondered what he would do now that he was home. Maybe he should have insisted that they let him back to school for the semester... but then again, he didn't think he had the strength to deal with the professors, students and the work it would ask of him. Maybe he could just sleep until they forced him out.

Bringing up his legs, he rolled himself onto his side. After a moment, he reached into his bag, pulling out the cell that he had thrown in. Sam stared at it for some time before turning it on, and found his way to his message inbox, the cursor hovering on the last message. Fighting through his hesitation, he managed to open the message, slowly re-reading Bee's text. He almost expected it to buzz right then. Didn't they always do that in movies? Phone ringing just when you had it in your hand? (Or on the floor, far away, when you need it and the murderer is busy) But his life wasn't a movie; Mikaela would be alive miraculously if that was so. He placed the cell lightly on the night table, and dropped his head on the pillow, staring up as he did. Mikaela.

A soft knock on his door's frame interrupted his thoughts, and he let his gaze drop down to the door. His father. Frowning, he scooted up on the bed so he was sitting up and watched his anxious-looking dad.

"Son," Ron began, unable to really look Sam in the eye, "Uh, I know you just came home, but your mother and I thought we should tell you now. So you can think about it."

"Tell me what?" Certainly couldn't be that bad. What more could go wrong?

"It's not yet, it's in a couple of weeks." Ron forced himself to look at Sam. "Mikaela's funeral."

"Oh."

Ron couldn't really gauge Sam's reaction. If anything, he looked like he just told Sam what they were having for dinner. Sighing, he softly began, "Sam, if you need someone to talk to..."

"I'm good. Really. Thanks." Sam looked away, up again at the ceiling. He heard his dad catch his breath as he stopped himself from saying something. Listened as his father reluctantly turned away and as his quiet footsteps led away. Mikaela's funeral?

Sam thought about that. Did he want to go? Could he even go? Would it be open casket, closed casket? Was there anything even left of her? Was she cremated? He felt bile rise up his throat, and he swallowed madly, trying to force it back down. But he couldn't stop the rush of images, those of his imagination and what he remembered from the accident. Was her head blown up? Did she burn? Bleed to death? Still swallowing hard, he shot from his bed, ignoring the dull stinging pain of his thigh protesting and rushed for the bathroom.

He barely made it to the toilet. He heaved. His ears rung and his head wouldn't stop spinning. Sam sat down heavily on the cold tile floor, leaned back against the bathroom cabinet, and closed his eyes. His stomach was uncomfortably empty, but the sensation of an empty chest was much more distressing. It hurt. Like someone had reached for his heart and pulled it out. How could he live like this? What was the point of even living like this? He felt a prickling in his eyes, but like always, they never came out. He just couldn't.

Sam dropped his head between his knees and counted the beats of his heart. If you could call what was left a heart.

x x x x

"Bumblebee, what Sam needs right now is our understanding and patience."

The dejected yellow scout could only look down at the ground, away from Optimus' optics. He listened as the great Autobot leader shifted his weight, and abstractedly noted the vibration he felt from the earth. Several days after Sam's departure, Bumblebee found himself constantly sitting by the water's edge, staring out at the endless sea. Cybertron never had any seas; although he hadn't been a stranger to water, the mostly-water planet Earth had intrigued him, and the ocean fascinated him.

He knew that. He knew that Sam was hurting and right now, what he needed was the understanding of the Autobots and give him his space. Optimus and everyone else was right, of course. But he was Sam's guardian, his friend, and where was he? Nearly the opposite side of the world, out in an island base in the middle of a sea. But it still felt wrong, and what if something happened to Sam? How could he be his guardian if his charge didn't want him there? His optics dimmed further.

"You must not worry. And despite the distance, Sam is being observed. He is safe." Optimus intoned, his bass voice soft. His reassurances were familiar. Often repeated.

Bee knew what Optimus wanted. He had come out to talk to the younger mech whenever he had the time, to try to pull him away from his lookout point, from his vigil by the sea. Told him that what happened wasn't his fault. That Sam would forgive in due time. But humans were such erratic organisms. Their emotions ranged such a vast extent, the full spectrum of their emotions an immeasurable expanse. Their behaviour was directly correlated, making them highly unpredictable. Illogical and irrational. They kept telling Bee that Sam would forgive him–but did they really know that? Sam was human. Nothing was for certain, and certainly not with unpredictable little fleshlings.

Sensing that Optimus had nothing more to say, he let his gaze wander back to the water. He could feel that by each passing hour, his processors were slowing, could sense some of his internal circuitry fixing in place. Nothing permanent: it was just his body's way of adjusting for optimum efficiency. He already had Ratchet pay him several visits, the medic reassuring himself that no permanent damage was being done. Bee would listen; he would rise and follow after Optimus. At some point. But not right now.

Optimus remained quiet. He was not known for wasting words. His own gaze followed Bumblebee's to the ocean, staring out at the brilliant water that had so often captured Bee's interest. The yellow mech did not look up when his Prime sat himself down by his side, joining him in his silent vigil. It was not the first time that the Autobot leader had joined him, and knowing the mech, it would not be his last either. Sometimes, there was nothing one could do, nothing but to let go of all intentions and just simply offer your company to a distressed friend.

They did not move for a very long time.

x x x x

Sam wondered whatever happened to Miles. True, after he had left for University, their friendship hadn't really survived. It had never been a friendship of desire, but rather, one of survival. School wasn't kind to those with no friends whatsoever. Was he still in Tranquility? Did he go to college? (Highly doubtful for those who tried to impress by climbing a tree and hang upside down.) But it made Sam a little sad. Another bit of his past just gone without a trace. Was anything still the same? Was there nothing that was still familiar? It was this train of thought that had led Sam to decide that he wanted to go outside.

Leaving hadn't been difficult. He wasn't sure if his parents would've gone for it, so Sam had grabbed his crutches, held them tight under his right arm, and slowly made his way out as quiet as possible. It hadn't been a hard task. His parents weren't on the lookout for him escaping; they imagined he was still locked up in his room with no plans of leaving. Once he was outside, the door closed quietly behind him, he placed his crutches on the ground. He didn't _need_ them, but he moved faster this way.

The yard was different, of course. It too, had been remodelled after the mini-con attack. His parents still hadn't given up on the fountain, despite being twice destroyed. Even the grass had a path. His father wouldn't let up about the no footprints on his grass. But it was still close enough to what it used to be before that Sam could almost imagine the Autobots there. Optimus as he further destroyed the yard with each step he took ("Oops, sorry, my bad...") or Ironhide threatening his old dog Mojo ("You have a rodent infestation... shall I terminate?"). He looked over to the garage. Definitely different to what it had been, but he could still see Bumblebee ripping through the wall, cannon in hand, optics flashing.

Sam felt a tug to his heart. Bumblebee.

Nothing he felt was solid, nothing was stable. It was as if he was walking on water, and with each step he took, each ripple he caused, everything changed. But where he could not even begin make sense of, where his feelings conflicted most was Bumblebee. His guardian, they said. More than his guardian, his friend, his best friend. Had they not laughed together? (Well, Sam had laughed, Bee had done his equivalent) When he had decided to propose to Mikaela... Bee had been the first person Sam told, and true to character, managed to make fun of him, tossing gears and other ring-like parts at him. But Sam knew better, he knew that Bee was pleased, that he approved. That Camaro-turning-alien-robot really was his other half.

But he had abandoned him. Abandoned Mikaela. And now she was dead and he was wishing that he had fallen too. Yeah, they told him that he was off on a mission, blah blah blah. But _they_ knew better, they knew that the Decepticons were up to something. Considering he had taken on the position as sort of ambassador to the Cybertronians, shouldn't he and Mikaela have been better protected? Shouldn't they have been a priority? If they were to be taken down, shouldn't it have been done in a flurry of burning hot shots, blasts everywhere, metal shrieking? Where had they been when Mikaela was dying on the dry concrete of the sidewalk where she took her last breath?

His anger began to build.

Why were they even still here? There was nothing left on Earth for them. As he saw it, the Decepticons stayed only because the Autobots remained, who claimed the humans needed them for protection. They called Earth their new home. But it wasn't true. He wanted them gone. He wanted to know that those revolting aliens that had brought war with them would never touch his planet again. They had done enough damage. At least the Decepticons weren't deceitful about it, weren't claiming one thing and doing another.

It made him sick. Sick with anger, sick with revulsion.

He had to do something. For Mikaela. For anyone that had ever lost their life because they had been caught in the middle of an alien feud. But what? Who would take him seriously? Could he even do anything? Sam fell to his knees, the soft green grass welcoming him as he dropped. He did not feel his leg. His fingers grabbed at the thin blades, crushing them in his palms as he ripped them out, his fingernails digging deep into the soil. His chest tightened, frustration enveloping his body. Was there no way he could make Mikaela...death mean something? Any way to prevent her passing from joining the thousands of deaths no one ever thought about with the advancing of time?

Questions and questions and questions. That was all his head was filled up with. Nothing made sense. Was there no answer to anything? A dirt-covered fist rose from the ground, slamming it forcefully back down with a frustrated cry.

Why did she have to die?

x x x x

The day was nothing but ordinary at Diego Garcia. The base was alive with movement, both of that human and alien. The Autobots were still the obvious minority, but their numbers had grown with the arrival of more stragglers. The NEST soldiers were constantly being re-trained, making sure each soldier understood how to fight with and stay out of the away of their larger allies, keeping the division at optimum efficiency. The soldiers fought as if part of a single body, but each Cybertronian had his own style, and they learned how to adapt according to what Autobot was fighting with them. Groups were sent out almost daily following leads they found regarding the Decepticons, but the majority turned out to be fruitless, but it gave the division and the Autobots a chance to put their moves to work.

There was a certain pattern to life at the base, and even the refugee Autobots had adapted and made themselves at home, quickly adjusting themselves to sharing their space with humans, and vice versa. Optimus spent much of time involved in diplomatic relations, especially with the increase of Autobot population, and the lack of involvement from Sam, but whenever he could, he still joined any outgoing forces. Although the Cybertronians did not tire as humans did, exhaustion was creeping up to the Autobot leader. He did not relegate any of his duties, not even to his primary officer Prowl.

Ratchet was still the only medic, although he was joined in company by the engineer Wheeljack, who had managed to somehow be convinced to somewhat focus his attention on updating weaponry. Ironhide had his hands full with training, often collaborating with Lennox. And still there were many other Autobots present, and each did their best to contribute in some way.

So when Bumblebee went missing, it had been several hours before Ironhide noticed the younger scout was gone. The old weapons specialist could not establish communication on any frequency. He could not tell whether the yellow mech was blocking his attempts, or could not answer. Optimus was away, currently involved in an international dialogue, so Ironhide did not wish to interrupt, or at least, not yet. He continued attempting to establish some sort of connection as he made sure that Bee was not somewhere else on the island. When Ironhide had confirmed he was not on base, he approached Ratchet.

The neon-coloured medic was currently at work on an Autobot's arm, where the newly upgraded cannon had somehow fused and exploded, tearing off the poor mech's arm. As Ironhide approached, he could hear curses and promises of retribution directed at Wheeljack being muttered under the medic's breath. Only when the black mech had halted, when he had stood some moments silently hovering did the working mech look up from his labour, and routinely scanned Ironhide before concluding nothing was amiss.

"Ironhide." Ratchet returned to his work on the arm. "What is it? It better be something; I'm busy." He couldn't help the irritated tone of his voice.

"Can't fraggin' reach Bumblebee."

Ratchet knew better than to question whether Ironhide had tried all methods available to him. He looked back to the weapons specialist. "You want me to try contacting him with medical level priority?"

"Optimus doesn't need to deal with this too." Ironhide knew that Optimus had enough to deal with; he didn't need to unnecessarily worry about Bee missing if Ironhide could find out what was going on first. He looked down at his cannons, giving each one a full rotation and a quick warm up before shutting them down again. His scarred gaze returned to Ratchet. He watched as the medic remained quiet for a moment before he shook his head.

Damn. Where in the Pit did that aft go?


	9. Chapter 9

**Author Notes: **Wow, life suddenly became busy. But forgive me if the quality of this chapter dropped, I had to write it during my free time, i.e. 3am in the morning.

* * *

Sam jiggled his good leg nervously, his fingers tapping the desk's hard surface rhythmically while his mind raced. The desk was clear of anything but his cell phone, which was resting in the center of the desk, with both his hands flanking the phone. The little mobile's display screen had long turned off the backlight, but the phone remained ready to dial a certain number. What Sam couldn't decide was whether he was up to it or not. It would mean dealing with people, and said people undoubtedly asking him questions and grilling him on whether he was ready or not.

It had taken him a couple of days to even get to this point. He always chickened out. But he was so _close_, all he had to do was click the green button and the call would start. Sam may not succeed, but at least he could try... But the thought of having to answer question after question regarding Mikaela's death forced bile up his throat. With a groan, he reached for the phone and cleared the screen, throwing it back on the desk. Why couldn't he do it? Didn't he want to do this, for Mikaela?

He swivelled around in his chair, turning to face the TV in his room. After picking up the remote from the floor, he turned on the tube. Maybe melting his brain a little would help. Flipping through the channels appeared fruitless, and it frustrated him that there was nothing mindless on that he could watch. But curiosity got the better of him. What was going on in the news? He had avoided the news religiously, but now, something made him want to flip it on. So he punched in the numbers to one of the more reputable news sources.

Same old same old. Murder here, earthquake there. 1200 dead. Why ever had he decided to avoid the news? It was almost as mindless watching this than anything else. But then the little bit of scrolling text at the bottom caught his eye. Or rather, his own name caught his attention: "...questions whether young alien ambassador Witwicky will return to his duties... funeral of his young fiancé... stay with us for more information..." So the world had noticed his personal little tragedy. Or rather, his absence.

It would make anything he said a lot more noticeable.

Muting the television, Sam twisted the chair to face his phone again. The time was now, while the world still cared, while questions were still in the air. If he waited too long, interest would pass and he would just be dismissed as a crazed, distraught ex-politician. He'd probably be ignored, or just swept under the rug, but at least the world would know the truth, and what they did with it was their choice. The world would know what the Autobots were really like. Maybe he was just acting childish. He didn't care. It was now or never. Sam picked up the phone, found the number in his phone list and pressed send. He placed the mobile to his ear.

"Hello? This is Sam Witwicky, ambassador. Yes, I'm good. Thank you..."

x x x x

Optimus was still in Washington D.C due to the week-long dialogue between the different nations. He was there, of course, as a representative of his people. When Ironhide informed him that Bumblebee could not be found, and would not or could not respond to communication queries, Optimus immediately attempted to contact the scout himself, but his attempt was just as ineffective. However, the Autobot leader had a good guess of where Bumblebee might be headed: Tranquility.

Arcee, who had accompanied the blue and red mech to the capital of the United States, who was already in a bad mood due to being ordered by Optimus to come along, fell into an even fouler mood when she had been told she needed to get to Tranquility. Optimus felt that if Bee did show up, someone had to be there to prevent him from contacting Sam, which could prove disastrous. While the ex-tripartite understood why, she still left Optimus in a huff. She knew what Optimus was doing. He felt that now that she was currently down to one unit, she shouldn't be given more dangerous missions until he felt that she had shown she would not overcompensate and make a mistake.

Still. It frustrated her. She originally had been one unit, and she knew how to fight without her sisters' bodies. After all, she had become a tripartite only after their deaths.

The tall mech watched as Arcee was loaded onto the cargo helicopter. It was too risky to have her drive herself, as they didn't know when Bee could show up, so she needed to get there as fast as possible. Optimus knew both Bee and Sam were hurting, but Sam was highly unstable right now, and he was afraid that the boy might say something he would regret.

It was something he learned early on in the war. For each death, for each fallen life, the piece of another was always taken away, and sometimes, the piece was bigger than what could be endured. He remembered the names of each fallen soldier, carrying them wherever he went, but the names of those in grief? It was war. He could not spend time to comfort those who suffered losses, but he mourned for each perished life and for those whose lives were forever changed. Although fate had intertwined Sam's destiny with theirs, Optimus did not forget he was still only a boy, one experiencing his first death, and not just any, but that of his mate.

And Bumblebee. The younger scout was clearly suffering guilt, pain, and likely a sense of uselessness. It pained Optimus that he had not managed to console Bee, to ease his guilt.

Optimus shook his head slowly, his metallic hand rose to rub his temple. How he wanted to go find Bumblebee himself, to somehow return Sam's trust in the Autobots, to go search for Barricade. But he was Prime, and he had duties to his race, and as they were on the humans' planet, he could not forego their requests for his presence, especially since Sam as the Autobot representative was no longer available. So he sent Arcee instead.

He hoped she would not find Bumblebee in Tranquility.

Had they broken Sam?

x x x x

The copter ride to a nearby area of Tranquility was a slow one. She was not escorted by any NEST personnel Arcee was familiar with, and as she wasn't in the mood to talk, it had been a quiet ride. Arcee knew she was unnerving the soldiers that were accompanying her, but frankly, she didn't really care. She was trying to decide what to do should she find Bumblebee. She didn't want to fight him, of course, and she had no real effective way of stopping him without damaging him. Her small stature wasn't going to restrain a mech the size of Bumblebee.

"Good job, Optimus." Her sarcastic voice broke the silence, and startled the men near her. She revved her engine loudly in response, before settling down again.

Her thoughts returned to one of her most prominent memories. Even though the original memory had been of her pink Arcee unit, the memory of Bee being tortured in front of her had been stored in all units. A day never went by that she didn't think back on it. She had been weak back then, unable to do anything as Megatron tortured Bumblebee... she had vowed she would never let that happen again. She had grown stronger. When her sisters died, they bestowed her one final gift, allowing her to grow even further. But where was she now? She would have to start over. But she would build her strength again.

But Bumblebee. Arcee didn't know what she could say to him, didn't know how to help her friend. He had always inspired her. He always had been so strong, in every way possible. It felt wrong to see Bee so withdrawn and guilt-ridden. But her reassurances to the scout had done no good, just like everyone else's. Only Sam could relieve Bee's guilt, only Sam's forgiveness could retrieve him. Maybe she could knock some sense into the human's head... But Optimus would disapprove.

"ETA to drop point 2 minutes." One of the soldiers interrupted her thoughts. Ah, finally.

Arcee transformed into her one-wheeled alien form, pleased that her escorts didn't seem to blink at the change. As the final pieces shifted into place, she turned to face the soldiers as they saluted her, and gave them a wink. "See you, boys." With that, she threw herself out of the hovering cargo helicopter, her engine's roar disappearing into the wind. After a brief lull in the air, she quickly re-aligned herself and had shifted into her alt-mode just as her front wheel hit the dirt road.

Her slight form shuddered as she landed with a heavy thump, sinking a few millimetres into the rough dirt. Without waiting to recover, she had already shot off, her engine growling with power, leaving nothing but a dirt cloud behind her. Some moments later, her hologram flickered into place, giving the illusion of a female rider riding her. Probably wouldn't do good to scare the locals. The thundering sound of the helicopter's blades breaking the wind disappeared behind her as she raced towards Tranquility. Her scans activated automatically as she entered the town, searching for any traces of cybertronian radiation. Searching for an Autobot signature. Searching for Bumblebee.

But she did not find any evidence that the scout had arrived before her, so she raced towards Sam's house. She would keep an eye on him.

x x x x

However, Sam was not there. That was plain enough. There were only two heat signatures, and they were both of the parents. He was in Tranquility, wasn't he? That was why Optimus sent her here... Something felt wrong. She recalibrated her sensors and scanned a larger radius, but still didn't find Sam. Arcee parked her motorcycle self near the Witwicky home as she dialled their home number. It was a much easier way to communicate, especially with those that weren't comfortable with all the autobots. It took several seconds before anyone answered.

"Hello?" Judy had picked up.

x x x x

Bumblebee could feel the intense pressure all around him. Were he not constructed of cybertronian metal, his frame would have long collapsed and have been crushed. There was no light: it could not travel to the depths that the yellow mech had submerged. Even then, his visibility was limited with the rude awakening of the sea floor, the near black sand and dirt floating listlessly around him. Creatures that resembled monsters rather than the familiar sea animals that most humans thought of wandered near him, at first startled by his presence, but his unmoving form had now become part of the seascape, so they began to settle again. Some smaller creatures began to hide within the crevices of his body, some sinking into the sand near him.

He could feel his systems slowly shutting down, each running a standard diagnostic before shutting down. Only the most minimal of resources would remain online, those needed to keep him alive. The shutters over his dim blue optics closed and the quiet hum of his internal circuitry and components died down, joining the ocean's impossible stillness.

STASIS LOCK IMMINENT.

DISAGNOSTIC: 90% COMPLETE  
...NONESSENTIAL SYSTEMS SHUT DOWN COMMENCING IN 10 SECONDS

STASIS LOCK IMMINENT  
DIAGNOSTIC COMPLETE  
...SHUT DOWN OF NONESSENTIAL SYSTEMS COMMENCING

STASIS LOCK COMPLETE

**Author Note**: Please leave reviews! Reviews help inspire me to write (and usually faster) so please do! It'll only take a second of your time, and you'll probably get a faster chapter. XP Let me know of what you think of the chapters!

And as always, constructive criticism welcome!


	10. Chapter 10

**Author Notes: **I've always been of the firm belief that a story is what a reader interprets from it. But I thought I'd just mention something. It was not my intention to write Bee's actions as the equivalent of suicide– if anything, I was imagining something more like extreme withdrawal, perhaps a runaway.

* * *

Sam had forgotten how much power he actually had for a kid that had left high school not too long ago. It hadn't taken long for the two black government SUVs to come rolling up to his house, coming to escort him. His parents had been startled, alarmed and had tried to convince him from going, but he essentially ignored them. What did they know?

He had dressed nicely, not quite suit-and-tie, but decent enough that he looked professional. He did not bring his crutches with him since he didn't really need them anymore, but anyone with a close eye would see he favoured his bad leg. As he briskly walked to his waiting car, his parents still followed behind him, urging him to stay. Sam shut the car's door, abruptly cutting off their voices. For a brief moment, Sam could have sworn that it was Simmons up front, and that Mikaela was beside him. Stammering to hide their knowledge of the Autobots... His hand stretched out to where Mikaela would have been sitting. He could hear her voice.

"Mr. Witwicky?"

Oh, right. Sam nodded. "Let's go."

The car started up. Even though they had always had offered transports like this to him, he never usually took advantage of them. Why would he? Sam had Bumblebee. Who wouldn't want their best friend who happened to be a 2009 yellow Camaro take them? Well, ex-best friend. Best friends didn't abandon you. He looked out the window, watching as the houses began blurring by as the big car began to pick up speed. Bumblebee...

He snorted. How had he ever trusted Bumblebee? Or the Autobots? It was like a veil had been lifted and he could see them as they really were, could see past the awe that they radiated that had blinded him. He could finally see them as an alien species that did anything to pursue their own objectives no matter the means, no matter who died or who suffered. He could see that they weren't the noble race that he had made them out to be. Funny how their enemies called themselves Decepticons when the real deceivers were the Autobots. His fists clenched, his jaw set. Why hadn't they protected Mikaela? How could they let her die? How could they?

A yellow blur outside his window distracted him. For a moment, his heart jumped, but it wasn't. Just another brightly coloured yellow car, not his Camaro... Sam shook his head. No. But something else tore at him, but he didn't know what it was. The yellow car was long gone, but he could picture a particular yellow Camaro racing by him. He could hear Mikaela's laughter in the air. Why did it feel like he had lost something more? Like Mikaela wasn't all that he'd lost? He looked away from the window, his gaze dropping to his feet. Why did it all feel so wrong? Sam looked up to the suited men in the front seats, and then glanced at the rear view mirror that reflected the twin car behind them.

He shut his eyes.

x x x x

"Optimus? Sam isn't here." Arcee spoke over a voice-only channel. "I think he's going somewhere. He was with some of his government's people."

"So I have been told. He is heading towards his country's capital."

Arcee held back her tongue. What a waste of time her trip here was. But there were more important things to worry about: like Bumblebee. He could still try to get to Tranquility. "What about Bumblebee?"

"He may still attempt to contact Sam, but now that he is under our care, the risk is minimal."

Something about Optimus' tone sounded off to the ex-tripartite. But she knew better than to bring it up. Her engine rumbled as it came to life, and she was already on the move. "What are you going to do with Sam? You can't still think he needs time to himself."

"I have something in mind."

Where _was_ Bumblebee? Optimus had exhausted his processors attempting to find a logical answer, but then, Bumblebee wasn't acting rationally. It worried him. He trusted that the younger mech would not put himself in harm's way, and realistically, all Optimus could do was just that. Nevertheless, he did send out several Autobots on search for Bumblebee, including Arcee, even though he knew it would ultimately prove futile. He could not console himself with the one fact that wherever Bee was, he was alive. Ratchet had reconfigured his scans and after much ado, was able to receive a low quality signal. A low signal could mean several things, and not all good.

But he could not personally search for him, at least, not right at the moment.

Optimus watched the dawn sky for the jet he knew Sam Witwicky would be in. He did feel guilty for partially deceiving the boy, but save for showing up unannounced at his door, there hadn't been much choice in how to confront the grieving youngling, and Sam had presented the opportunity himself. He crossed metallic arms over his chest, and although unnecessary, he shifted his weight to his other leg, a human habit he had adopted. Optimus had noted that both his Autobots and the humans that worked around them had picked up some mannerisms from each other. It was a good thing, Optimus thought.

"Optimus Prime, sir."

The red and blue mech looked down towards the sound. An unfamiliar human.

"What should we do with Mr. Witwicky, sir?"

He did not answer for a few moments. "The time will present itself. Keep an eye on Sam, but do not restrain his movements."

"Yes, sir." The uniformed man peeled away. Optimus let his gaze return to the sky.

If the Autobot leader had learned anything about Sam from the few years he had known him, it was to no longer attempt to make any plans regarding the boy. Undoubtedly, Sam would go about it his own way. His spark flickered. Had Sam's spirit died with Mikaela? He did not think so. Optimus did not often fail in recognizing character, and he knew Sam was stronger than that. Was it not Sam that brought down Megatron before he was revived? Was it not Sam that, against all odds, had retrieved the Matrix which his fathers had deemed worthy for him to use, and had brought him back to life?

No. Optimus knew there was greatness in Sam.

An alert from his scanners interrupted his thoughts. The jet was near. Knowing it would not do well to let Sam see him, the tall mech began his transformation into his alt-mode. Swiftly, groaning components began to move, pieces melded together to form the smooth sleek surface of his red-and-blue semi form, making him a perfect replica of the truck he had transcanned so long ago. Even when his outer form was finished, internal machinery was still settling itself into their pre-determined places.

The aircraft was still too far away for the human eye to see when Optimus rolled away quietly– even for a truck.

x x x x

Sam hadn't expected to be so anxious during the flight. He had never been afraid of planes before; he had certainly had his share of air time. But as he neared the large plane, he couldn't help but imagine the jet transforming into one of _them._ It made him feel ill. Fortunately, the flight was relatively quiet and uneventful, but Sam still jumped at each little sound, especially if they sounded like it could pass off for shifting metal. He couldn't sleep during the flight. He had tried to occupy himself instead with various things: music, reading, internet, etc. It was the nice thing about being in a big government plane. They didn't succeed in distracting him, though.

When the plane landed, they couldn't have made him move any faster to get out of the plane than he did. In fact, he had nearly tripped on the metal stairs as he went down; an agent behind him had stopped him from toppling forward– to his great embarrassment.

They asked him where he wanted to go, whether he would like to go to his accommodation. It tempted him. Sleep would be nice. But at the same time, he didn't think he could actually fall asleep, he was too wound up. But he would be meeting with several delegates the next day, and it certainly wouldn't look professional to look obviously tired, especially with the jet lag. They herded him towards his prepared convoy and climbed into one of the familiar government vehicles. He stared out the tinted glass.

Why was it that's how it always felt now? Nothing but a passenger in his own life.

Sam was led to his room, and immediately dropped his bag at the foot of the bed before he fell into it himself. Exhausted, he was just so exhausted. His shoes flew off as he kicked them from his feet as he rolled onto his stomach, and after a moment, willed himself to sleep. But sleep did not come. Instead, the familiar reel of violent images raced across his mind. Glinting metal. Deafening clashes. He wrapped his arms around his head, and tried to think of nothing, of emptiness. To think of anything but the death in his mind.

But metallic aliens killing each other dominated his thoughts anyways. He couldn't even tell them apart anymore. All Sam knew was that he was sick of the explosions, the screeching, and the fear. Not just fear for himself, but fearing that one of the falling giants would be one of those he had called his friends. That it would be Bumblebee crashing to the ground. He groaned. And Mikaela. Her wide blue eyes staring fearfully into his own haunted his every nightmare, his daydreams (if you could call them that.) She was supposed to be safe. She wasn't supposed to die. She was supposed to have been by his side!

He would've given anything to erase his memory. Erase everything. Sam's heart thumped painfully. Not _everything_... But then it wouldn't make sense. Why would he know Mikaela if he didn't know Bumblebee and the others? The others that killed killed killed. He took his confused and hectic thoughts into a restless sleep, his nightmares following soon after.

Nightmares that never left him.

His eyes shot open. He woke up in cold sweat.

Rolling slowly to his side, Sam glanced out the window. Night. Oh, great, now he would _really_ have jet lag. Didn't they always say to try to take no longer than a nap in these cases? He'd only meant a short one. Great, great, great. As he pushed himself up, he then paused for a moment. He considered the thought of getting back to sleep; but the very thought of it jolted him even further awake. Sighing, he swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood up. Maybe a walk would do him good. He headed out quickly enough, once he had finished dressing himself with a few more layers. Maybe a little fresh air would help.

The night was eerily quiet when he stepped out, and Sam's first thought was that the silence would only make his thoughts worse, but instead, he found the quiet forced quiet in his own mind. It was nice. He pulled his head back, looking up at the night, but he couldn't make out many stars since the lights from the city were blocking out the majority of the sky above. It made him a little sad. He tried not to think of the question that always came up when he looked up at the stars.

Wasn't there a park nearby? Sam was sure of it. He wandered a little longer before he came across a fairly open area, and to his delight, the sky was slightly darker and the stars a little brighter. He stopped at the first bench he passed, one near the perimeter of the park. He could hear his mother berating him, telling him that this wasn't the smartest of ideas, being out in the dark in the middle of the night, but he hadn't felt so at peace in a long time. Definitely should've thought of going out at night earlier. He lay down on the bench, and gazed up at the night sky. Sam tried to find some familiar constellations.

"I have always found that the stars help place my thoughts into perspective," a low baritone voice intoned softly.

Sam shot up. Optimus stood, blaringly blue optics burning through the dark.

* * *

**Author Note: **This chapter gave me a lot of trouble, which is why I wasn't able to update earlier like I promised. Sorry guys! Seriously, some baaaad writer's block with this one. Even then, I might fill it out more at a later date.


	11. Chapter 11

"Optimus." Sam's voice was already tired. He shook his head as he stood up. "I don't need this." Couldn't they just leave him alone? Sighing, he kicked at a nearby rock, nearly hitting Optimus' foot. Not that Optimus would have even noticed. "Why are you here?" His eyes were glued to the ground.

"We need to talk," Optimus said quietly.

"No, we don't." Sam's eyes shot upward angrily. "What's there to talk about? I don't have anything more you can take, and I'm pretty sure you haven't missed anything."

The Autobot leader wisely didn't answer.

"So? Go away. I don't want you here. Just go away." Sam spat, turning away from the tall Autobot. His heart was pounding, and his palms were sweaty, but he only waited for Optimus to leave. Considering all he'd done for them, it was the least Optimus could do; he could listen and finally leave Sam alone (preferably forever), especially now that he had nothing else left. He waited.

"No." The forcefulness of Optimus' voice startled Sam. The blue and red cybertronian knelt down, bringing himself closer to Sam, the ground shaking lightly as his heavy weight was shifted. "Turn around, Sam." It was not an order, but not an invitation either. Rather, he spoke as if he were only reminding Sam. It did have the desired effect, as Sam reluctantly faced the alien leader, looking up expectantly. Impatient. Optimus almost did not recognize the person before him. Who was this angry, distraught boy before him? Was the bright, optimistic, and selfless young man that he was once in there somewhere? Optimus believed so.

"Okay, well, I'm just gonna get going," Sam said suddenly, meaning to walk away, but Prime's gaze did not release him. "Sorry, but I have an important thing tomorrow, I need to get to sleep..." his voice trailed off, trying to hint in a very unsubtle manner.

"I'm afraid that you have been mislead, Sam." The Autobot shook his head lightly. "There is no press conference, nor are you meeting with any international delegates."

"What..." But then it dawned to Sam. He had been tricked. They were told of his call (or monitoring his calls, he wouldn't put it past them) and everyone played along just so that they could get him here. They _lied_ to him. They _tricked_ him! What, so they didn't trust him, after all? He felt his fists clench together, felt his heart hammering against his chest, felt his blood begin to boil. Was he really nothing, then, to them? Just a puppet to be manipulated?

He took a step back. Did they honestly think this would have helped? How could they ever... aliens. They were aliens. As human as they may sound, they were still aliens from another planet. He snorted loudly and Sam began to shake his head, as if he couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe it. Guess all that trust was just an illusion in the end.

"I don't want to talk to you. I don't even want to look at you. _Any_ of you!" Sam snapped. He was shaking. "Why can't you understand that?"

Optimus did not hesitate. "Because I have come to know you and this is not who you are, or who you were meant to become." His brilliant optics stared down at Sam. "Is this who you wish to be?"

"I didn't have a choice!" Sam closed his eyes as Mikaela's face raced across his mind and his chest gave a sharp pang, reminding him of the hole that was left. "You just don't get it. You can't understand," he finished flatly.

"Sam Witwicky, there is much you do not know," Prime replied sharply –but his rebuke carried no rancor; instead, it was wistful. Optimus rose to his feet. "Do not be so quick to assume that you alone have lost. War is not without its many victims."

"I don't want to hear it." Sam sharply turned and began to walk away. He really didn't need to hear some sort of sob story, not from Optimus. Optimus was the leader of the Autobots, Sam was just... Sam. He wasn't expecting any deaths from his side; he wasn't expecting Mikaela of all people to be shot down by a Deception. Maybe he could've come terms with her death if she had been run over or something, but the latest victim of a war he was no longer convinced was his? No. Just no.

A very large metallic foot stood in his way. Sam stared at it, snorted and simply walked around it. But his dignity was further mutilated as Optimus bent down to pluck him by the back of his jacket, effortlessly cutting short his attempt of escape. "Hey! Put me down!"

"We are not finished." Perhaps Optimus' most severe words ever to Sam, and they had their desired effect as the distraught boy stopped struggling. He was carefully put down and a red-faced Sam crossed his arms and turned away. He may have to listen, but he didn't have to look at _him._

"I am sorry, Sam, but it is important that you know that Bumblebee is missing."

Huh? That was not what Sam had been expecting. Twisting around, he looked up at the alien face. "What do you mean?" Bee was missing?

"He is alive. However, his signal is faint and we do not know where he is."

Had he been holding his breath? Bee was alive. But what did it mean? That he was dying? Captured? Why weren't they doing anything to find him? Why the heck was Optimus _here_ instead of looking for Bumblebee? Between the Autobots and NEST's scans, they should at least have an idea of where he was! Was Optimus here to tell him that they weren't even going to bother?

The sudden flurry of emotion startled Sam. He hadn't been aware Bee still mattered to him. His guardian, his friend... But had he not abandoned Sam? Why should Sam care? But he did. Blast it, he did. For once, his conflicting emotions fell into one. Bee may have abandoned him, but he wasn't going to do the same. "What are you doing about it?" was Sam's sudden query.

The change in Sam was obvious. The anger was still there, but he no longer held himself rigid. "I have sent some of my soldiers in search of him." Optimus paused. "There is not much we can do. If Bumblebee has concealed himself, and does not wish to be found, it is likely we may not find him."

"Why would he do that?" It was the only thing that made no sense. "Isn't it more likely that he was... taken... by the Decepticons?" It was like some part of him that he thought had died was reviving. What if Bee, too, was killed by them, like Mikaela was? He swallowed hard.

"He feels responsible for Mikaela's death." The alien Prime hesitated, but then he added, "And for your disintegration."

What could Sam say? Had he not blamed Bee every step of the way? He felt sick. He _had_ blamed him for Mikaela's death; he had said everything had been his fault... His disintegration? What did Optimus mean by that? That only made him angry. Wasn't it all, really, Optimus' fault? It was by his orders that Bee was not there when they needed him, it was by his word that he and Mikaela had been utterly defenceless. Anger flared in his eyes, and said bitterly, "Because we know where the fault really lies."

The sudden change in Sam startled him momentarily, but then it intensified his sorrow. His own guilt. As leader, he could not be constantly second-guessing himself, but it did not mean he was free of guilt. But before Optimus could say something, Sam spoke up again.

"I don't ever want to talk to you again. Ever. If you need to say something to me, send someone else to speak to me. Because you and me? We're done. Finished." Sam resisted the urge to spit on the cybertronian's blue foot. "I don't forget you tricked me to get me here, either. So if I can do something to help Bee, I'll do it. But I'm not helping _you_ ever again. Got it?" Sam didn't wait for Optimus' reply, and stalked away.

Optimus Prime did not stop him. He could not grant Sam freedom from the war, but he could grant him this one request, as often as he could. It was the least he could do. He looked away from Sam's disappearing form and tilted his head back to gaze at the sky. Cybertron could not be seen from here. His world had no sun, but even the nearest sun to his destroyed home world was too far to be seen from this distance.

If Sam needed someone to blame, Optimus could take it.

x x x x

When Sam finally reached his temporary apartment, his blood was still racing with adrenaline. He still wasn't too sure what had just transpired, or what it meant. Or what exactly was going to happen because of it. He wasn't even aware that he was absently stripping down for bed. And Bumblebee?

He kicked himself over blaming Bee. He may have abandoned him and Mikaela (the thought was still tender) but he knew it had been Optimus' orders. And now? Where was he? As he glanced up towards the window, he realized that light was starting to spread through the sky. Even as he sunk into sleep, his last thoughts were still of Bee, a break from Mikaela's bloody face and her dying voice.

"Wake up, boy. I'm not planning on dressing you."

Sam was shaken awake, and no other than Agent Simmons' face was unnaturally close to his own, startling him to full attention. "Whoa!" Pleased with Sam's response, he stepped away and began to motioning with his hands for Sam to hurry up. Irritated, Sam rose from his bed exclaiming, "I can't dress with you here! Go away."

"No can do, sleeping beauty. We're on the clock here. Got some planes to catch." He waved a pair of tickets. "Dress and pack. Now."

Planes to catch? Where were they going? Why the heck was Simmons here, actually? He picked up clothes from the ground before he glanced up at the agent again (Or whatever he was, all he knew was that he worked for NEST now) but the man's very impatient look told him he wasn't going to have a chance to shower. He slid into the previous day's clothes and zipped up his duffel. "Where we going?"

"We'll talk in the car. Let's go!" He abruptly left the room, with a startled Sam chasing after him.

They passed the elevator, with Simmons' explanation being a mere "Never trap yourself in an elevator, son. That's just asking for trouble." They raced down the flight of stairs, Sam huffing to keep up with him. His thigh protested, but it didn't look like Simmons was in the mood for sympathy, so he just ignored it. When they finally reached the base of the stairs and passed the reception area, Sam rooted in his pockets for his keys, but had no luck. He figured they were already given back.

Waiting for them on the curb was a familiar government black SUV. As Sam was trailing the agent closely, when the older man stopped abruptly, Sam nearly collided into him but an unsympathetic Simmons only raised an eyebrow before speaking. "Okay, _Sam_. You've got two choices. I have two plane tickets for you here." He raised the pair again, and Sam tried to see their locations, but they were rapidly flipped away again. "One's for Tranquility. The other's for Diego Garcia. Where to?"

One for home and one for the Autobot base.

Sam walked past Simmons into the waiting SUV, twisting his head to look back over his shoulder to say, "Do you really need to ask?"

Simmons grinned. Maybe there was hope with this kid. He climbed in and announced, "International airport. Diego Garcia."

* * *

**Author Note: **I liiiiiiiiiiiive. Sorry guys, writer's block attacked and then life came in. Don't let anyone EVER say writing Optimus is easy! But my block's been resolved and I should be writing regularly again.

Please review and let me know what you think. My apologies if my writing's not up to par, I just wanted to finish this chapter finally! I must have re-written this chapter at least 3 times. .


	12. Chapter 12

**Author Note: **This is my re-done chapter 12! I think that it's much fuller now, and hopefully you'll think so too. Let me know what you think! PS: Next chapter is coming very soon!

* * *

"Optimus."

At first, the red and blue Autobot made no indication of having heard his name, his body remaining motionless as stone. But then the shutters over his dim blue eyes opened slowly and his body seemed to awaken, with muffled creaks and air hissing from deep within his body. He did not have to turn to recognize the heavy steps and the voice of his comrade. "Ironhide. What brings you here, old friend?"

Ironhide joined Optimus' side, halting just a step behind the taller Autobot. They stood watching out the hanger entrance that opened into the air field of the base. "There has been Decepticon activity detected, Optimus," the black mech's rough voice broke the stillness. The Autobot leader waited for Ironhide to continue. "It's too faint to be sure, but looks like Barricade."

"That's right." A much quieter, but commanding, voice spoke out. It was Lennox. The man strode up to the two metallic forms, stopping close to Ironhide's foot. "He's somewhere on the east coast." It was a weak signal, but it was there.

"We must act fast. He may not be there long."

"Or he may be trying to get to Sam again," Lennox added sombrely.

But Optimus did not respond immediately; it was as if something heavy on his spark was weighing him down. But after a moment's silence, he came back to life. "Notify Prowl." The Autobot shook his head as he continued, "We cannot keep allowing him to escape." He turned to face the two, his movement slow but impossibly graceful for a metal giant. Blue optics intensified as he glanced from Lennox to Ironhide, saying, "We must attempt capture."

Lennox couldn't stop the shock from registering on his face. Capture? Wasn't eliminating the Decepticons already hard enough, but to capture one _alive_, much less Barricade? The police transformer had a certain knack for escaping, and Lennox couldn't see how they were going to manage that. The Major glanced up at Ironhide, but the old mech was already occupied, judging from his expression– no doubt already contacting Prowl over internal frequencies. So Lennox cocked an eyebrow at Optimus as he spoke up again, "Capture? Is that really necessary?"

"By capture, we may gain much-needed intelligence on Decepticon movement, as well as the possibility on gaining awareness of Megatron's whereabouts. Dangerous, yes, but well worth the risk should we be successful." Prime paused. "Your men will only serve as back-up support as to prevent any unnecessary loss of life."

The Major was quiet for a moment. "And Sam."

"It would also be good to know whether the attempt on Sam's life had been due to Barricade's own initiative, or if he had been ordered to. We are still not sure if Barricade had been acting on his own or not," Optimus admitted, his voice heavy with weariness.

Lennox knew that Sam was taking its toll on everyone, including Optimus. It didn't even seem like Sam anymore, from what he'd seen and from other incidents reported. But Lennox didn't have Optimus' certainty; he wasn't sure if Sam would ever recover and return to the young man they all knew. He knew that Sam was capable, Lennox was quite aware of Sam's strength, but it didn't look like he _wanted_ to move on. What was Sam so afraid of?

"Major," the Autobot's heavy bass interrupted his thoughts, "I must ask a favour of you. I have been informed that Sam is returning to base and will be arriving soon, while we are overseas. I do not wish to leave him unattended."

It wasn't like Optimus to not say straight out what he meant to say. But Lennox understood. Optimus wanted him to leave his men behind so he could babysit Sam. It wasn't often that he had left his men on their own in a fight, and it made him uncomfortable in considering it. He knew that Epps was more than capable, and it wouldn't be the first time that he'd led them on his own, but still... Lennox frowned. "I don't like this. And I don't think what Sam needs is a babysitter," he shrugged, "But if you think so."

"Thank you, Will."

x x x x

As the government-issue black SUV raced through the traffic, Sam thought he saw among the blurs of the other cars a glimpse of a blue motorcycle. A very familiar one. So, the Autobots had sent him an escort, had they? He pulled his gaze from the window, and glanced over to Simmons, who was looking busy being very serious. Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes. That man didn't take anything lightly, did he? Returning to watching past the window, Sam tried to go back to the half-sleep state he had been in.

No such luck, though, as Simmons chose that moment to speak up.

"Okay, listen up, Mr. Hot Shot," the ex-agent began, twisting from his seat at the front to look at Sam, "When we get there, don't go off wandering anywhere, and I say move, you move, got that?"

"Yeah, yeah," Sam absently agreed. But then, he thought about that. Was it just him, or did Simmons sound honestly serious about what he was saying? He straightened up on his seat. What did that mean? They'd been pretty good about giving him freedom, why the change now? Only reason they'd up security like that was if there was some sort of danger around... and there really wasn't much danger to him with an Autobot escort. Unless it was a Decepticon; there had to be one around.

His heart began to pound. A Decepticon.

The car skidded to a stop, startling Sam as he was thrown forward in wake of the sudden brake. Simmons was out the door before Sam could even look around.

"Let's go, let's go!" Simmons said impatiently, opening Sam's door and motioning him to get a move on. Sam stepped out and felt the uneasy feeling of being watched. Was he just being paranoid? No, he realized, as he recognized a NEST soldier in plainclothes, not too far from him. And he wouldn't be the only one, Sam knew. But it was too much for the ex-agent, as he had grabbed the younger man's arm and had forced them to begin to walk after giving Sam a glare.

Sam was aware of being followed as they moved, and he could almost make out a sort of perimeter around the two. They were hurried through the airport fairly inconspicuously, and they made fast progress through the building. There were a few double-takes from people that he noticed that probably recognized Sam, but they were left basically ignored. They weren't stopped by airport security– a flash of some sort of badge from Simmons and they were ushered through without any trouble.

They reached the air field soon enough and their now-obvious procession took them to the side of a military jet. The area was busy with personnel prepping the jet, along with uniformed soldiers that were guarding the area. If Sam needed any sort of confirmation, this was it: there had to be some sort of Decepticon around.

"You stay right here. Do _not_ move." Simmons said with an accusing finger pointed at Sam, his threat unsaid as he glared at Sam. After waiting for a moment for the response that didn't come, he stalked past Sam, indicating to someone past his vision to approach. Sam turned around to watch the ex-agent walk away far enough to be out of his hearing range and assembled a small gathering of men. Probably talking about me, Sam thought dryly.

With a shrug, Sam lost interest in Simmons and looked around. The air field was fairly empty, and he couldn't really see anyone else except for the personnel attending to the military jet– clearly a security measure. Sam thought everything looked kind of dull, like there was no colour... grays and blacks and pale greens and tan, that sort of thing. Except, he realized with a start, the blue motorcycle from earlier that he could've sworn had not been there a second ago. It unsettled him.

Sam tried to remember her name. It was like pulling a memory from another life, it seemed so long ago. Arcee? But he remembered a pink face with that name. Oh, right, she was that ex-tripartite... she had been there when he'd asked... With a violent shake of his head, he tried not to remember that starry night.

The sound of hurried activity caught his attention again, and the change was obvious. Men were running, and orders being shouted. Something was happening, something was coming. Sam looked around for the ex-agent, and once he caught sight of him, he began to jog over to him. "Hey, Simmons. What's going on...?"

"Didn't I tell you to stay over there? Go!"

Frowning, Sam walked away. Looking at the people near him, he considered asking them. But they either wouldn't do or wouldn't tell him. His gaze unwillingly fell on the blue Arcee. She would know. But the mere thought of even going near her set Sam's heart pounding. What was he thinking? She was one of _them_. He thought of her face, one of the more alien of the bunch.

But he needed to know.

So he took a step forward. His palms were sweaty, and he couldn't hear much else except for his heart thundering in his ears. Sam had a vision of her stretching from her alt-mode, her blue eyes transforming into red. The red of the Decepticons. No. He thought of Bee, somewhere, maybe in the hands of those aliens. Swallowing hard, he closed the last paces that separated them quickly, stopping only a few feet away from the smaller femme bot. She was so small, she wouldn't do anything.

Arcee wasn't sure what she should do. Why was Sam coming? What could she say? She flickered on her hologram, afraid she might somehow send Sam into a panic. She had heard what Optimus had said. What if she undid the progress that Sam had made?

Sam knew the woman on the motorcycle was fake. Just a lie, just another lie. "Turn it off," he said sharply and the image disappeared. He tried not to think about the fact that he was this close to an alien. Instead, he remembered something from a while ago, he remembered that she was Bumblebee's friend. Bumblebee. Sam felt something in him jar. Where was Bee?

"Sam?" Arcee asked cautiously.

For the first time in months, Sam's eyes were not dull. "Tell me what's going on."

"It's nothing you have to worry about," she said softly.

"Don't say that to me. I'm not stupid." Anger was clear in his voice.

The blue Autobot hesitated. She had never agreed with the whole 'keep things away from Sam because he's so weak' plan. Besides, wouldn't it do his heart good to know that they were doing something about Barricade? That they hadn't simply forgotten about what happened and moved on? "Alright," she began, "It looks like there's a Decepticon somewhere along this coast. We think it's Barricade." Despite herself, she found herself waiting for Sam to panic.

"Oh." Sam took a step back, looking away from Arcee. Barricade. The memory of glowing red eyes, yellow teeth flashed across his mind. The sound of glass exploding deafened all sounds from the air field. Barricade, who had ruined his life, murdered Mikaela. He felt anger bubbling up, filling him up in such a way that he didn't even care about this alien in front of him. Nothing else mattered. "I need to find him," he whispered. Sam's voice transformed, becoming severe, "you can either help me or watch me," he said as he lifted his eyes.

That surprised her. "Sam, that's just stupid and dangerous. What can you do? Optimus is already going, there's nothing you can do. Let us take care of it."

A disbelieving laugh came from Sam. "Oh, like you guys did the first time? Like how you were supposed to take care of us?" He shook his head, his voice dropping, "Look, I don't know why, okay? I just need to go there. I know I can't do anything, but..." his voice trailed off. "Help me," he pleaded, "You could keep an eye on me."

It didn't make any sense to her. No matter how she ran it through her logistics, all her queries told her it was risky, stupid and unnecessary. But somehow, Arcee understood. She could almost see a glimpse of Sam's old persistence, a piece of his old self. What would she tell Optimus? "Alright. I'll help you, just don't do anything stupid." She revved her engine quietly.

For a moment, Sam almost lost his nerve. What was he doing? He was going to place his trust on an Autobot? Hadn't they already shown how they didn't care what happened to him? Hadn't they let Mikaela die? Hadn't Optimus let Mikaela die? But the memory of Mikaela's bloodied face surfaced, and the glimpse of a black and white car racing away. Barricade.

In one quick movement, Sam stepped to the blue vehicle and swung his leg onto it. His hands tightened their grip on the handles and his body tensed. The metal was not cold, like he'd come to expect these days, it was warm. He had to do this.

"You just hold on tight," Arcee said as her engine came to life, roaring as she raced past all the shocked military men. She was already down the runway by the time Sam could hear orders being shouted, and he could've sworn he heard Simmons yell after him. She dove underneath the wings of the planes, swiftly dodging any obstacles. Arcee didn't slow, and they soon shot out from the airport. Once on the highway, her speed only picked up further.

Adrenaline rushed through Sam's blood. He hadn't felt this way in ages. The wind hurt as it whipped across his face, his wrists were sore from his death grip and he knew if he fell, he'd be dead at this speed with no head protection. But it didn't scare him. With the world blurring by him and with his trust placed utterly on the Autobot he was on, it was the first time he felt he could breathe properly since the world fell to pieces.

Yes, he could breathe.


	13. Chapter 13

"Sam." Optimus said suddenly, startling the NEST soldiers that were with him in the carrier plane.

"What does that boy think he's doing?" Ironhide growled, looking up at Optimus.

The NEST soldiers exchanged glances, but no one said anything. It never was a good sign if not only Ironhide, but Optimus, were taken off guard.

"What does Arcee think she's doing?" Optimus replied, and a faint trace of annoyance layered his worried tone. He had asked her to watch over Sam as he was brought over to the base, not go take him off wherever it was he wanted to go, especially when she knew a Decepticon was detected nearby. She was not answering her prompts either.

"She's not answering," Ironhide said, repeating what Optimus had already realized.

Prime remained silent. With Barricade in the vicinity, there wasn't much they could do. Barricade could not be given the chance to escape. But he hoped Sam wasn't planning on doing what Optimus thought he was doing: confronting Barricade. It was a deadly plan; he had to be stopped. If they could capture the Decepticon before Sam could find him, if Arcee wasn't leading Sam to his death.

"Barricade has been spotted." Prowl reported over the Autobot frequency, from the second carrier plane.

"Let's roll out."

x x x x

Guilt washed over Arcee. High priority queries and commands waited unopened in queue, but the ex-tripartite already knew what they would contain. What had she been thinking taking Sam? What could he do? And if it came to it, could she even protect him? If she had any sense, she'd turn around right now and let Optimus know. But something held her back.

"How are you doing, Sam?" Her voice was nearly lost in the wind, but Sam heard.

"I'm fine."

"We can still turn around..." but she felt Sam's body tense and didn't finish.

As she shot past cars and other vehicles, some of them giving her obscene gestures as she raced past them, Arcee realized she had no real plan. She knew that Barricade was supposed to be somewhere along the coast, but where? Her scans had been damaged, and they were never meant for long-range scanning, anyways. And somehow, Arcee doubted that Optimus or anyone else would let her know the exact location now.

COMMUNICATION REQUEST. SIDESWIPE.

COMMUNICATION DENIED.

What did Sideswipe want anyways? But she didn't think he'd hound on her maybe-a-little-too-reckless decision to take Sam. So, she waited to see if he would persist. Maybe it was nothing. As she waited, she did a quick scan of Sam to make sure he was still all right. His heart rate was up, but it wasn't at dangerous levels. Ah, finally.

COMMUNICATION REQUEST. SIDESWIPE.

COMMUNICATION LINE OPENED.

"You're going the wrong way," came Sideswipe's arrogant voice, "Unless you wanted to take Sam sight-seeing somewhere."

Her engine revved in annoyance. "So send me the coordinates."

"I hadn't thought _you_ were suicidal."

"Are you going to help me or not?" Arcee demanded, her patience gone. Sideswipe didn't answer again, but she received from him updated coordinates of where Barricade was last seen, and where the Autobots were heading. They might still make it in time, as long as they made good speed. So, after seeing an opening, she warned Sam, "Hold on tight!" before she swerved sharply to make a sharp u-turn, and shot off in the opposite direction, past the honking cars.

"What's going on?" Sam yelled over the roar.

"Barricade's been located."

Sam didn't respond. He had gone back to thinking of Mikaela, and of Bumblebee. And Barricade.

x x x x

The black and white police car raced between the other cars, its lights and sirens blaring. While most cars managed to brake in time, it clearly had no reservations about slamming past the other vehicles, throwing them aside when they were in its way. People shouted and cars buckled and crashed into each other, but the police car remained unharmed. This was no ordinary car, this was Barricade.

Scans kept him apprised of the Autobots' movement, he was aware that they were catching up to him. It wouldn't be long before they were right over him. He knew, however, with so many of the insects around, they would hold back in order to prevent collateral damage. And with their attachment to that one human, they made themselves so laughably vulnerable. Barricade had failed the first time, but he wouldn't this time.

When his probes relayed the fact that Autobots had dropped onto the off-road area, Barricade did not change course. It was, of course, going to plan. It was going to be much too easy.

x x x x

Sideswipe's wheels screeched as he veered suddenly to the side, evading the oncoming fire from the Decepticon ahead. Prowl wasn't far behind. Exploding debris flew everywhere and screams could be heard from nearby vehicles. The NEST team had created a barrier to cut off traffic before more accidents could occur, but there was little they could do about those already out there.

"Come here, you coward! Stop running away!" Sideswipe growled, shooting forward with a burst of speed. His body folded up, metal swiftly being moved to reveal a bipedal shape. A pair of swords slid out and with a grunt, he jumped forward onto Barricade. Barricade, however, had begun his own transformation and with an ear-splitting crash, blocked the Cybertronian swords master.

Their movement was a blur as they rolled down the highway, pavement flying in chunks as they smashed into the road. Metal clanged as Sideswipe tried to impale the Decepticon, but each attempt was thwarted by Barricade's quick reaction. Nevertheless, the experienced Autobot had forced his adversary to the ground in a defensive position. But Barricade wasn't one to remain in such a position As Sideswipe rose in preparation of another strike, Barricade swiftly grabbed one of the swords and with a powerful thrust, knocked the sword free from the shocked Autobot's hands, the metal flying straight into Prowl.

Prowl dodged easily as he ran towards the two, taking the chance to shoot now while Sideswipe wasn't in the way. But Barricade had transformed back into his alt-mode, and after an unsuccessful attempt to swerve into the silver Autobot, the Decepticon had shot off again into the highway.

There was no time for reprimanding words from Prowl. The smaller Autobot transformed into his own black and white police mode, as he chased after Barricade. Sideswipe hurriedly grabbed his fallen sword and transformed as he raced after the two police cars.

"Optimus, we are nearing the city," Prowl said to Optimus.

"Stay on him. Do not lose him," Optimus replied.

They had hoped to disable Barricade before the Decepticon could reach the city, by sending two of their faster Autobots. But clearly, the Decepticon wasn't cooperating. Optimus Prime motioned to Ironhide to prepare and with a nod to the NEST flight masters, the cargo door to the C-17 plane opened.

"Optimus, Ironhide, it's Starscream!" yelled the surprised Sideswipe.

x x x x

Sam's thoughts raced, his mind making no particular sense. Rather, it was more of a jumble of various faces, names and words among his memories that occupied his attention. At least, that was until he started to notice that an unusual amount of cars were driving the opposite way he and Arcee were headed to. As if to confirm his suspicion, an explosion thundered some miles away. It wasn't long before another set of explosions set off. If he had any doubt before that Arcee didn't know where she was going, that was gone now.

"Oh, slag." Arcee said abruptly, startling Sam. "That's Prowl over there."

Sam looked up, and his eye was immediately drawn to the police car with its sirens blaring. Prowl? He felt Arcee's engine rev and she picked up speed, in attempt to shoot by the Autobot tactician unnoticed. But Prowl was obviously aware that they were there, as he transformed into his cybertronian shape and crossed the median strip, jumping straight into Arcee's path. The blue motorcycle's brakes screeched in attempt to avoid colliding with the Autobot, veering dangerously to her side as Sam's knuckles turned white with the effort of holding on.

She came to a stop.

"What are you doing! You could've killed Sam!" Arcee exclaimed angrily.

Prowl turned his head calmly towards Sam, scanning him quickly. With no damage noted, the Autobot shrugged. "Considering that you are acting against orders put to protect the human boy, surely you must've considered that a possibility."

"Don't get smart with me."

For a moment, Sam couldn't help but notice Prowl's similarities to Barricade. His body was dark as well, made of black and white pieces. He swallowed convulsively, and his heartbeat accelerated as he stared at the towering Autobot. It would be nothing for him to simply reach across and crush Sam, or to step on both him and Arcee. But his rationality returned. The two may share a similar alt-mode, but the differences ended there. Prowl did not have Barricade's yellow teeth, did not have his blaring red eyes and his body and head shape were completely different. This was not Barricade. Sam knew that Prowl was one of Optimus' most trusted soldiers.

Optimus... Sam could feel his face get hot, could feel his anger arising. He knew why Prowl was here. He was here to stop him. Optimus would have sent him. He didn't care that Optimus would have sent him only in concern for Sam's safety; all he cared was that Optimus was in his way again. Sam finally spoke, his voice rough, "You're here to stop me."

Brilliant blue optics faced Sam again. He sensed little fear, only defiance. Was this the same human that he had last seen back at Diego Garcia? "You are to be taken to safety. With the unforeseen arrival of Starscream, and Barricade' escape, you are in extreme danger." Prowl turned to Arcee. "I will escort you to the airport."

Arcee did not reply. She waited for Sam's response.

Sam looked up at the metallic alien. He could feel fear biting at his heels, threatening to take over. But the sense that he had do something, that he had to confront Barricade was much stronger. And now, his anger at this denial only served to strengthen him further. "No. I'm not running away anymore."

"You will go. There is nothing you can do and you would only hinder us," the Autobot intoned patiently. He did not mention that every second that Sam took to argue, was time that Prowl was here, unable to help his Autobot comrades.

What could Sam do? He could tell that Prowl was not going to budge. So Sam looked away from the Autobot. Arcee's engine softly came to life. Sam did not watch as Prowl began to transform back into his police mode, ignoring the sounds of metal sliding into place, the hisses and rumbling that came from the shifting body.

x x x x

With Starscream occupying Prime, Ironhide and Sideswipe's attention, Barricade was free to make his escape—as ordered by Starscream. He wouldn't have minded staying behind to bring down an Autobot or two. However, he knew that the time frame was short, now that the Autobots were on the move. Their precious insect wouldn't remain so vulnerable for much longer, and as it was, it had been the human's irrationality that was providing him with the window.

Barricade made sure to conceal his spark; the trap would not succeed should he be detected before it was time. Even as he raced towards his destination, he made sure not to draw attention to himself, even from the humans. Stealth was everything, and stealth was his speciality.

Far overhead, a large military helicopter (much like the late Blackout) made its way largely unnoticed. It kept a close eye on the procession of the small motorcycle with its police escort. Stormcloud wasn't fooled; he would recognize Prowl anywhere. He assumed that the human on the smaller Autobot femme was their target. He didn't quite understand all the fuss on this human, but he did as he was ordered. The Decepticon noted that Barricade was nearly in position, and all he had to do was wait until the Autobots were in place.

It had been a while since Stormcloud had been able to get into the thick of things. He could use for some good Autobot destruction.


	14. Chapter 14

Something felt wrong. Arcee had no real reason to feel that way, but something just didn't sit right with her. She ran multiple scans and several diagnostic checks. Nothing in her immediate surroundings was off, nor were there any internal problems with her. What was it that the humans called it? A gut feeling.

Prowl was ahead of her and Sam, his sirens blaring. His mode as a police cruiser did nicely for clearing a little space in front of them, although not as cleanly as it might've done any other day. The highway was incredibly crowded, and predictably so, as people were flocking away from the city in which a battle was taking place. Many were hoping to reach the airport, but they would find that there were no flights going out. Except one, and that one wouldn't leave until Sam was in it.

She was frustrated, and she knew Sam was too. Even though she knew that there was nothing Sam could do—heck, nothing _she_ could've done—it still galled her.

x x x x

Sam glanced up to the police cruiser. Prowl. He'd never really had the chance to meet him before... everything. But even though he knew he was an Autobot, the mech still left him nervous. He looked too much like Barricade for comfort. But even that wasn't the main thing in his mind; he was still livid about the denial. Snorting, he turned his gaze away from the Autobot, to the cars that they passed. Many looked fearful, some annoyed. Did they know that it was aliens that were destroying their city? After The Fallen's announcement of his species' presence, it had been no longer possible to keep the transformer's existence a secret. Not that they flaunted their presence either; if anything they were even more scrupulous about keeping hidden to prevent mass panic. A surprising (or maybe not so surprising?) portion of the population still believed that the Cybertronians were only a hoax.

A hoax. Not for the first time, Sam wished it were so. But then... things weren't so clear anymore. He used to be so sure that's what he wanted when he wished that Optimus and the others had never come. But would Mikaela ever have given him a second glance had they not gone through what they did? And Bumblebee. He would never have met Bumblebee. Sam swallowed hard. The temptation to blame everything on Bee was still there, but something else in him, a stronger part now, shuddered away from the thought. How could he ever have blamed him? Had Bee not supported Sam again and again? Not only there for the serious times, but for the good times too.

It was his fault. He chased Bumblebee away. There was no hiding from the fact: Bumblebee was gone because of Sam. His fists tightened their grip around Arcee's handles, his breathing quickening. How could he have been so stupid?

"I'm sorry, Bee..." Sam whispered.

Arcee listened. A part of her rejoiced that Sam, although at an awkward time, seemed to be starting to heal at last; but another part of her grieved. Where was Bumblebee? Would he ever get to hear Sam's forgiveness? Was it too late? Where was her friend?

"You will accompany Sam to Diego Garcia," Prowl said, interrupting her thoughts, "He will be safe there with Ratchet and the others."

"Acknowledged," Arcee replied back formerly. But then, she blurted out: "Prowl, something's wrong. I don't think we should take Sam back to base just yet."

Sam could not hear the Autobots' exchange; it was through their internal frequencies.

"With Barricade at large, it is highly probable that he may attack at any moment. Sam will be safer in the air, with Starscream being occupied by Prime. The sooner he is at Diego Garcia, the safer he will be," Prowl intoned. Clearly, it was the more _logical_ choice, even Arcee saw that.

"I know..." but Arcee didn't continue. She had no proof, and with Prowl of all Autobots, there was no way he'd take her hunch.

So they drove on.

x x x x

With a grunt, Optimus grabbed Starscream from the air and the two were thrown into a building. The building crumbled around them and they crashed into the ground below. The force of the impact allowed the Decepticon the little space he needed to break free, and he quickly transformed into his F-22 alt-mode to escape into the air. But he did not run away, he instead made a turn around and sent Optimus a volley of fire from the air.

Ironhide took the chance to aim one of his cannons towards the Raptor, but Starscream had flown away already, twisting around to strike at Ironhide.

Much of the fight had followed that pattern: the three Autobots attempting to take down the Decepticon, with Starscream feinting again and again. A game of cat and mouse. Optimus had long become aware that Starscream was not fighting to take any of them down: he was keeping them busy. This was a fight designed to stall. But they could not leave; the Autobot leader knew that Starscream would bring his fury down on the humans of the city if left alone. Optimus and the others were forced to fight passively in order to prevent as much damage as they could, but Starscream's persistence was taking its toll on the Autobots.

Once Optimus realized that Barricade no longer was present, he had ordered Prowl away to intercept Arcee and Sam, and if necessary, provide protection. The Autobots could not let Starscream go now, not until they knew that Sam had reached a safe distance away.

"So weak, _Prime_..?" Starscream taunted.

x x x x

"Go, go, go!" yelled Simmons to a nearby soldier as soon as he caught sight of Sam on Arcee, with Prowl leading the way. Now that the ungrateful boy was here, they could actually move. Personnel did last minute checks, opened the door to the jet for Sam in addition to opening a cargo door for Arcee. Maybe not the most impressive place for the Autobot, but it'd have to do.

Prowl screeched to a halt and Arcee skidded to a stop, her motorcycle body swinging to the side from the force of the sudden stop. The bigger mech wasted no time in transforming, his body unfolding to reveal his natural shape. Although the white and black metal shifted quickly into place, the Autobot had already powered on his weapons and was at the ready before his body had even finished its transformation. He turned to Arcee and nodded.

Sam had just stepped away from the blue motorcycle when a nearby aircraft exploded. Someone shouted to get down and Sam instinctively dropped to the ground, covering his head with his hands. Debris from the destroyed aircraft fell around him, and he was partially aware that Arcee had transformed into her cybertronian shape and was shielding him. As Sam cautiously raised his head, he looked up in time to see Prowl leap from his spot and felt the ground shake with his landing some meters away. NEST soldiers yelled out commands to each other and someone grabbed Sam's arm. For a second, he pulled back in surprise, but he saw it was only a soldier. He followed after the uniformed man.

Another explosion deafened Sam's ears and he was thrown to the ground by the force of the blast, and this time the heat was painfully close. As the air cleared of dust, Sam saw Prowl shooting at an unfamiliar military helicopter. The Decepticon landed and rapidly transformed into his Cybertronian shape. Rotating blades poised as weapons, the larger Cybertronian charged at Prowl. The clash resulted in a thunderous crash, and Sam recoiled reflexively. The Decepticons, they were here, they were _here_. His mouth had gone dry and had the NEST soldier beside him not dragged him to shelter behind a vehicle, he would have likely frozen in his spot.

Gunfire erupted from the soldiers, but they did little against Decepticon armour. They had not brought the bigger guns that were fitted with sabot rounds and the higher heat weaponry that actually did something against the Decepticons: they had thought this would be a simple convey mission.

Stormcloud largely ignored the humans, focusing instead on Prowl, and to a lesser extent, Arcee. The Autobot femme's arsenal was fairly limited at the moment, so she was restricted to circling the larger mechs and trying to get in shots when she could. Frustration overloaded her circuits, annoyed that she was unable to do much more because she did not have many weapons on her as per her on-going adjustment from a tripartite body.

But Stormcloud bored of Prowl. Leaping backwards in a flip, he shot at both Prowl and Arcee as he hung in the air. The Autobot tactician evaded by rolling away, but Arcee was partially hit and she flew several meters away, crashing hard on the runway pavement. Pleased to see that both Autobots were off their feet, the helicopter Decepticon turned towards the humans. Yeah, yeah, that wasn't his part of the plan, but who cared as long as the deed was done? So taking a step forward, he brought back his heavily armed limb, preparing his shot. But fortunately for the humans, Prowl grabbed Stormcloud's arm and shouted at Arcee, "Take Sam away! Now!"

Still dazed from her fall, Arcee picked herself up and transformed back into her sleek motorcycle form. She rushed past the struggling Decepticon and Prowl into the grouping of humans where Sam was. Her wheels squealed against the pavement as she braked. "Sam, we have to go!"

But Sam wasn't listening. All Sam could see was the Decepticon, his glowing red eyes, the angry whirring of the rotating blades. He didn't see Prowl restraining the angry mech, he didn't hear Arcee yelling for Sam's attention. The soldier beside him grabbed his shoulders and shouted at him, but Sam simply stared past him. It wasn't even Stormcloud that he saw standing there, it was Barricade.

It wasn't until another explosion went off somewhere behind the group that Sam was forced back to the present. The NEST soldier was still shouting at him, but Sam couldn't hear much over his ringing ears. Finally, he was pushed and hoisted onto Arcee and he automatically grasped onto the handles. Fear still wouldn't let go of his body and Sam couldn't stay focused, he couldn't think. He didn't know what was going on. This was it, this was it. He thought of Bumblebee. He thought of Mikaela. He even thought of Optimus, _he must be so disappointed._

"Sam!" Someone yelled. Mikaela? No, it was all wrong. Arcee. He could feel her engine roaring from underneath him, he could hear the gunfire fade away as she raced away from Stormcloud and the others. Blinking, he tried to clear his eyes, but the dust was still floating in the air. It soon cleared enough that when he turned back to look, he saw Prowl engaging Stormcloud again, pulling him away from where the humans were. Even from this distance, Sam could still hear the echoing crash of the metal bodies. He closed his eyes as he turned away.

Arcee tried to catch his attention again. "Sam, Sam! You have to get a grip! Sam!"

Sam still wasn't responsive. Arcee cursed silently. What should she do? She needed to take Sam away. Where was safe? She thought about Prowl. Could he handle Stormcloud on his own? Where had that Decepticon come from, anyways? She could have sworn he'd died back on Cybertron. She sent a mayday to Optimus, to all the Autobots. They needed help.

The lithe blue motorcycle weaved in between vehicles, doing her best to put as much distance between the airport and themselves as they could. She ignored the horns that arose from the cars, and she ignored the larger explosion that could be seen from where they had just left. She kept a close eye on Sam, worried that in his state, he would just let go: at this speed, it would surely kill the young human. Arcee had to get away from this highway, they were so vulnerable here, and anyone could find them.

And she hurt. That hit from Stormcloud had not disabled her, but her injury was serious enough that she could not section off the area and so could not stop the urgent alerts of her body's systems. Even though her system was already working on self-repair, she knew that it would need Ratchet to properly patch her back up.

Arcee also kept up a constant scan on their surroundings. Stormcloud or another Decepticon could still come after them.

Like Barricade.

* * *

**Author Note: **Don't forget to leave me reviews! =) All reviews are highly appreciated and constructive criticism is always appreciated. Plus, they just might make me upload the next (already written) chapter faster. ;)

Also, another shameless plug: If you're into transformers, and you like Thom Yorke's 'Hearing Damage,' take a look at my newest video: Youtube search "transformers" and "hearing damage" and it'll be the only TF video there! I think most of you should actually quite enjoy it: give it a try!


	15. Chapter 15

Optimus received Arcee's distress call. Now that Stormcloud had revealed himself, Prime was beginning to perceive the outlines of the Decepticon plan. With Prowl engaged, Starscream would occupy his and the other Autobots' attentions while Sam was left largely undefended, vulnerable to attack. In her current condition, Arcee would not be able to hold her own against a Decepticon like Stormcloud for long. But it was not Stormcloud that worried Optimus—he knew as long as the fight wasn't prolonged, Prowl could take on the larger Decepticon—but rather, Barricade. As Barricade had slipped past their watch, he was the current wild card. Where was he now?

The tall red and blue Autobot glanced up at the sky, watching as Starscream retreated for the time being. But he would return.

There was also the chance that Barricade had escaped and gone back into hiding. But it was far more probable, Optimus thought darkly, that the Decepticon was headed for Sam now. With Arcee as his sole guardian, it would be an opportune time to attack. Prowl was still occupied with Stormcloud and could not come to their aid. As the Autobot leader watched the F-22 jet begin a dive back towards the Autobots, he knew that they could not leave Starscream either.

But Starscream could be handled with just Ironhide and himself.

"Sideswipe." The smaller Autobot wheeled over to his commander, swords on hand, at the ready. "I believe that Barricade is headed for Arcee and Sam." Optimus only hoped that the speedy Sideswipe could reach them in time. "They will need assistance. You must hurry!"

The silver cybertronian nodded in agreement as his swords slid into their places and he began his transformation. Metal was quickly shuffled around, smooth metal plates reforming themselves as he dropped to the ground. His change took only seconds, and by the time the last piece had fallen into place, the Stingray was already racing away.

His retreat was not ignored by Starscream and the half-transformed Decepticon struggled free of Ironhide to go after the departing Autobot car.

"Cover Sideswipe!" Optimus said to Ironhide as he ran under the flying Starscream, aiming his ion blaster on the fighter jet. The Decepticon evaded the attack but was then bombarded by Ironhide's cannons and so the jet made a sharp vertical climb, disappearing into the skyscrapers. Ironhide growled in frustration, but Starscream had been forced away from Sideswipe.

Perhaps a little too easily.

As the Corvette Stingray reached the edge of the city, far enough that he no longer could tell whose guns were whose, an explosion suddenly threw him off course. Still moving, he straightened into his humanoid form, his heavy cybertronian swords unsheathed. For a quick moment, he thought that Starscream had escaped Optimus and Ironhide, but he soon realized that this F-22 jet was different. Or rather, had none of the tattoos that Starscream sported.

As the fighter jet circled around to bear down on the Autobot, Sideswipe headed towards the approaching Decepticon. Transformed into its natural shape, the swords master recognized the Cybertronian: Skywarp. Leaping into the air to seize the seeker, Sideswipe couldn't help but snarling, "Why do you all fraggin' fly?"

x x x x

Sam was angry with himself. Furious. How could he have frozen like that?

When Sam had finally broken out of his trance, he had been livid. But Arcee was just grateful that Sam had pulled himself out and just waited out his angry words. For some time there, she had been worried that he had been irreparably damaged. But she could see his frustration soon turn into another sort of frustration as she pointedly ignored his demands to turn back. Was he crazy? He barely made it out alive! What was wrong with this human? Was he suicidal?

"Sam, there's nothing we can do. You must be kept safe."

Sam didn't answer that. He could feel the old hole wanting to swallow him up again. He could hear a voice in his head demanding, why were they so intent on keeping him safe _now_? Where was that dedication before, when Mikaela was still around? But he shook his head sharply. No. He refused to fall into that state again. His heart thumped painfully and he took a deep breath to steady himself. How many times had Bumblebee chosen to stay behind as to remain with Sam? Hadn't Ratchet and Ironhide risked their lives to protect him?

Had Optimus not lost his life for him?

"Barricade! Slag it!" Arcee interrupted his thoughts, suddenly swerving. Sam looked back and an all too familiar black and white police cruiser was chasing after them. They weren't going to make it into the city before Barricade could catch up to them! Sam was dismayed to see that cars were pulling aside to make way for the disguised Decepticon, not that Barricade had any sort of hesitation about ploughing through any unfortunate cars that did not make way.

This was him. The Decepticon of his nightmares, the one that murdered Mikaela, who destroyed his life.

But it was anger that welled up in him, not fear.

Why couldn't he do anything? Why was he so powerless against the Decepticons?

x x x x

Barricade was now close enough that he could shoot without having too many of the annoying insects in the way. Not that he cared if they blew up too, but he hated wasting any of his arsenal. So inefficient. Only a few car lengths away, the Cybertronian took careful aim. The faster this was completed, the better. Starscream would not appreciate being shot at for any longer than what was necessary.

So the moment that the Decepticon had a clear shot, he took it. A stream of gunfire erupted from Barricade.

"Arcee!" Sam shouted in warning as soon as he saw that the cars behind them were moving to create a long space of emptiness between them and the pursuing alien. Fortunately, the ex-tripartite managed to sharply swerve out of the way, forcing her passenger to use all his strength to prevent falling and evaded the majority of the barrage, with none of it reaching Sam. With the knowledge that Barricade was right at her tail, Arcee managed to dig up reserve power to give herself a burst of speed. The bigger Decepticon was left behind for the time being.

This would not work. Barricade would catch up to her. She had to do something with Sam! Arcee's sensors ran a scan of her immediate surroundings, but nothing came to mind. If she reached the city, could she hold out until one of the Autobots arrived? Optimus had sent her notice that Sideswipe was attempting to come to her aid but was currently detained. The last update from Prowl hadn't given her hope that Stormcloud would be dealt with anytime soon. If there was any time that she needed her 'Arcee' and 'Flareup' bodies, it would be now. She cursed that day in Egypt.

Could she drop Sam and hold back Barricade herself while he made his escape? Her overburdened processors ran scenario after scenario, but nothing ended optimally. Not for her, anyways. If Arcee could find somewhere safe to drop Sam, somewhere he could find transportation to get away! If Sam was going to walk away from this, she had to reach the city. That was her priority. On the highway, they were easy targets.

Barricade was rapidly catching up to her.

Primus, what could she do?

It had not occurred to her that help would come from the humans.

"Arcee, this is NEST. Do you come in? Over." a voice buzzed over her frequencies. She recognized the voice to belong to the human called Epps of NEST. She confirmed. "Sending support. ETA two minutes. Can you hold out?"

"Yes." She could manage two minutes. However, Arcee knew that it wasn't over. Even if the NEST operatives arrived in time, they would not be many. She didn't know how many could be spared from their positions near Optimus' group nor how many of those would go to aid Prowl. Perhaps she could use the opportunity to send away Sam.

Barricade was no longer being careful about his shot. Now that the Decepticon had come close enough, he opened fire. The sound of exploding glass arose behind the pair as Barricade shot through any cars in the way. A volley of slugs raced past her, her wheels screeching as she evaded the oncoming gunfire. Her own guns had been transformed from their various places on her motorcycle mode, her own battery of weapons fire nullifying the ones that she could not avoid. She was a precise shooter, making up for her lack of fire power.

As the police Decepticon began his barrage again, Sam couldn't help but curse himself. Why was he so helpless? He could feel the fear wanting to suck him in, to paralyze him. The pit of darkness was not far away and he was only teetering at its edge... (That was _Barricade_ behind them... no, no, he wasn't ready...) But he kept control, he refused to retreat into his fear and his anger remained control of his body. Barricade was right there, _right there_ and he couldn't do anything! More than anything, he wanted to avenge Mikaela's death, his lost friendship with Bumblebee... Destroy him for destroying his life.

Sam had lost his awareness of his immediate danger, so hungry he was for Barricade's destruction. Why were they running away? He was sick of running away, sick of being afraid. Flashes of Mikaela's face raced across his mind, memories of Bumblebee, of Optimus and everyone else. No, Barricade had to die! He wasn't going to control him anymore. Sam was so deep in his anger that he could not even hear the deafening explosions all around him.

When the two military helicopters that dropped from the sky, following after the speeding police cruiser, began to open fire on the Decepticon, Barricade was forced to stop, focusing his fire on the NEST soldiers instead. They were prepared, however, and their heavy shots soon forced the cybertronian to transform into his robotic form. They circled above the Decepticon, rising into the air as Barricade's gunfire neared his targets. But still, he was forced to ignore Arcee's disappearing form.

Sam turned around to watch Barricade become smaller and smaller as they raced away. "No! NO!" They were leaving, they were leaving _him_ behind! No!

Arcee could not be more grateful that moment when the two helicopters dropped in. Barricade had not managed to hit her, but her earlier injury was draining her strength. There was no way she could've held on much longer. They passed into the city just as Sam began yelling incoherently, leaving Arcee bewildered. "Sam, what are you talking about? Sam!"

But Sam did not answer. Instead, he noticed that now that they had passed into the more traffic-heavy city, Arcee had killed much of her speed. Not only that, she had pulled off into a smaller street, hoping to make themselves more inconspicuous, away from the larger highway. Was it slow enough? All rationality had left Sam, so intent on his single goal. Taking a deep breath, he let go of the blue motorcycle's handles and jumped off her side.

The femme realized Sam's notion just in time, throwing her brakes on so that Sam's leap would not kill him.

"Sam!" The pavement was not kind to his skin, and as he rolled away he was aware of various scores on his body, his arms rubbed raw, and the embedded gravel stinging. His thigh screamed at him, but like the rest of his pains, he ignored it. Sam had not come to a stop before he had picked himself up and had shot off running, albeit with a slight limp.

"What are you doing, Sam!" But she was relieved that he had not broken his neck. Her own body straightened into her cybertronian shape, but she did not follow after Sam. "Sam! You're going to get yourself killed! Barricade might follow!"

Let him come.

x x x x

Having shot down both annoying human aircrafts, Barricade watched them drop to the ground with satisfaction. Neither exploded on impact so the humans had enough time to escape from the helicopters before they blew, but Barricade didn't care whether they lived or died. They were unimportant. All he cared about was that he now was free to hunt down his target again. Yes, the humans had slowed him down, but he would find the insect they called Sam soon. It would be even easier as the Autobot femme would give him something tangible to scan for, instead of scanning for the weak signal of an organic.

Once he had exterminated the insect, he would enjoy killing the femme slowly. He had no mercy for Autobots, especially those that got in his way.

Even as he shrunk down into his alt-mode, his powered on sensors were already beginning their search. He assumed that they would seek refuge within the human city, but that wouldn't hold him back. They may have bought themselves an extra few minutes, but Barricade would find them easily enough. True enough, his scans brought him results and with his new heading, Barricade shot forward.

The Decepticon was aware that Arcee was injured and once he disabled her, it would be an easy thing to finally complete his mission.

Humans were so laughably easy to kill.

* * *

**Author Note: **A note on Flareup/Elita-one. So apparently Hasbro has announced that the third Arcee sister IS Elita-one (In my head, it's a name in honour of the other Elita-one, especially since Optimus' Elita-one was already killed on Cybertron in the movie-verse universe... ) but I will keep calling her Flareup for the sake of continuity. =)


	16. Chapter 16

...

...EMERGENCY POWER ON INITIATED

...DIAGNOSTIC COMPLETE. SYSTEM POWERING UP

SYSTEM AT 20%

SYSTEM AT 80%

A pulse raced through the sleeping giant's body as the internal systems slowly came alive. The cold metal was rapidly warming and the small invertebrates and fishes that had settled themselves into the dark crevices of the metallic structure scattered into the dark waters. Various internal mechanisms loudly started up, working to restore proper power distribution and noise disturbed the absolute silence that was the Earth's deep ocean.

A metal digit twitched.

The shutters over suddenly brilliant blue optics opened.

A rush of messages that were left on standby were downloaded, all organized into a lower priority queue. But one message stood above the rest, the one that his automatic system had considered essential and had forced Bumblebee from his stasis lock. Arcee, in her panic, had broadcast her distress call to all Autobots on Earth, including the yellow scout. Even as the mech's systems continued to power up there was only the one real thought in the cybertronian's mind.

_Sam._

And he was in danger.

NONESSENTIAL SYSTEMS ON.

ALL SYSTEMS ON.

START UP COMPLETE.

Bumblebee felt his body respond once again. There was sand and other various foreign substances in his body, but they were insignificant and would not interfere. The internal whirring picked up. The Autobot calculated his trajectory, and once he came to a conclusion, his body fell into a sudden eerie quiet. Like a breath.

And he burst forward towards the surface.


	17. Chapter 17

What was he doing? Was he crazy? Suicidal?

As he limped in no particular direction, the adrenaline rush of throwing himself off a very fast bike (How was he not dead?) began to wear off, and Sam was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was without any semblance of a plan. How exactly, he asked himself, was he supposed to take down Barricade? He didn't even have a handgun to his name, much less anything that would actually do any damage to a cybertronian giant.

_Idiot, idiot, idiot. _What could have possibly short-circuited in his brain that he thought this had been a brilliant idea?

Numerous faces flashed.

Mikaela. Bumblebee. Barricade.

Crazy, he _was _crazy. But he had to– his heart's demand for vengeance was too strong. For Mikaela, for himself. He knew there would be no way of ever moving on, not unless he was able to face Barricade again.

He had to. Somehow.

Sam looked back behind his shoulder, but there was no sign of Arcee of course. This was a really stupid idea. Was he insane, was that it? Finally cracked the ol' pot? What had compelled him to abandon Arcee, his only real chance of actually doing something?

Sam was very aware of his vulnerability.

They were looking for him, Barricade was looking for him. With Arcee's help, they had barely managed to lose the Decepticon. But here he was now, a mere sitting duck, just waiting to be found. Brilliant thinking on his part. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he called, "Arcee! Arcee!" But unsurprisingly, there was no answer. She was long gone.

"Well, excellent planning, Sam," he berated himself. "Here you are, utterly defenceless in some random street right when you're in the middle of being hunted." A flashback to the day in the forest, when Starscream and those Decepticons had chased him, arose, threatening to paralyze him. The ground rumbling underneath him, dirt exploding around him... How did he survive...?

No. no. _Enough_. He was stronger than this, he knew that much. He had survived Mission City, he had survived Egypt. A pain struck him the chest, making it hard to breathe. The faces of the Autobots rose up in his mind. And Mikaela. For her. He had to stay strong, he had to avenge her! Even if he did nothing else ever again, even if it meant his own demise, her death had to mean something.

It just had to.

x x x x

Leaving Sam behind had been a difficult choice, but there was nothing else she could do there. She couldn't help Sam if he didn't want help. But she could do something _for_ him: she would delay Barricade.

Arcee wasn't a fool. She couldn't hold back a mech like Barricade back for long, but she would do it for as long as she able to until Sam could get himself to safety, or help arrived. Her logic circuits kept spitting at her various survival statistics, each no better than the last, but she didn't care. Her Spark would never let her abandon Sam to the devices of the Decepticons, even if it meant ill for her.

What was it about these humans, she pondered, these small fleshy creatures that softened even the hardest of the Autobots?

Various alarms rang in her processor, not letting her forget for one second that she was heading headfirst into a Decepticon, and she was under-armed with poor odds.

She may not be strong, but she was fast.

Arcee charged ahead, much faster than anything she would have dared with Sam clinging on her back. Her small shape allowed her to slip between cars, still trying to get away from the battle. Terrified expressions followed her; she no longer bothered putting up a hologram rider. She doubted that after all was over, a rider-less motorcycle would be their foremost memory of this day.

If she had been human, she might've started hyperventilating. Here she was, a tiny Autobot, at a third of her original strength, heading straight for a very formidable Decepticon, and with everyone already engaged, help nowhere near. But she wasn't, she was an Autobot, and so she didn't respond as a human might. She was determined, and although a little afraid, she had long learned to not let it affect her decisions. Fear like that had no place in the Autobot-Decepticon war.

"Back again, femme?" Barricade's voice sneered.

The police car Decepticon had transformed himself into bipedal form, his cannons already powered and glowing. He was waiting for Arcee.

For a moment, Arcee was surprised. But then she realized: once she was taken out of the game, it would be no problem for the stealth Decepticon to find Sam. It was typical Decepticon arrogance.

As the towering mech neared, she gave her engines a final boost, rocketing her towards him. In surprise of her sudden approach, the Decepticon began a barrage of gunfire with no particular target, just blasting anywhere she might be. Abandoned cars around them exploded, throwing dirt and rubble everywhere. She hoped that there were no more humans hiding in cars.

Despite Barricade's fury of fire, Arcee nimbly avoided his attacks. She hadn't even yet transformed into her natural shape, and instead was skating between the mech's legs. It was, in the moment, the safest place to be. She was waiting for a good moment. Maybe, just maybe, if she timed it just right, in a moment when he was vulnerable, she could just...

"Ugh!" A ear-numbing clash accompanied her crash into the ground. It took a moment for her dazed system to process what just happened. Barricade, seeing that simply shooting at her was clearly not working, had kicked her, sending her flying and landing hard against the asphalt.

"You are a fool. Is it really worth your life to attempt to save such an insect? It is futile," Barricade growled, reaching towards her.

Immediately, her body began shifting, metallic plates sliding into place hurriedly. But Barricade had already grabbed her, lifting her by the head as she finished transforming into her cybertronian form. A low chuckle arose from the Decepticon as he began to exert pressure on her head, which was threatening to buckle in.

"You would never understand!" she cried just as she threw her lower body upwards, surprising Barricade enough that he loosened his hold. She knew he had been prepared for her to shoot him, and had held her in such an angle that she would have never been able to target his more vulnerable areas. So at her sudden movement, he momentarily lost his precise hold and she took advantage of the moment to aim for his face.

The Decepticon howled in rage, throwing her at his feet just as he took a step backwards. With a sickening crunch, she felt something in her give as she landed. But this time, she immediately rose and was already sending a hail of fire towards the other cybertronian as she gave herself some distance from the now advancing mech.

His face, while not seriously damaged, had a few pieces hanging. "You will pay for that, Autobot."

"And here I thought I helped with that face of yours."

Well, that wouldn't help matters, she said to herself as an afterthought.

Roaring with indignation and fury, he leapt after her.

Arcee wondered if Sam had managed to find somewhere to hide. Her self-diagnostic system was already warning her with critical errors, reminding her that she wouldn't be able to take much more of this. But there was nothing else she could do, with all the Autobots that could possibly arrive to help already occupied, it was left up to her to distract Barricade.

Belatedly, she realized that maybe she should have listened to Ratchet about those new cooling vents.

x x x x

Prime was well aware of Arcee's current predicament, and of Sam's defenselessness. But still, Starscream would not neither allow him nor Ironhide to come to their rescue. And with Skywarp's arrival, Sideswipe was now effectively occupied, despite the soldier's attempts to break free. He also knew ordering the Autobots that were back on base in Diego Garcia in as reinforcements would be in vain– they would not arrive in time.

Optimus slashed with his glowing energon sword at Starscream as he swooped down behind, but the Decepticon was already back in the air, leaving gunfire in his wake.

"Prime." Ironhide growled in reminder.

"I know, Ironhide."

Displeased with the two Autobots' brief reprieve, Starscream shot a volley of rockets towards them and the two cybertronians dove towards them, destroying them before they could detonate and possibly cause further damage.

His Weapons Specialist chased after Starscream.

But Optimus found himself momentarily distracted with the arrival of a new, and unexpected, alert.

x x x x

Barricade looked down on the Autobot femme in disgust. Weak, not even worth his time.

Arcee was in a crumpled heap in the center of a mound of rubble, surrounded by broken glass, splintered metal and chunks of asphalt. Most of the cars surrounding them were burning furiously with fire, and those that weren't, were overturned and in pieces. Her blue optics glowed brightly, glaring up from the midst of destruction.

The Autobots were clearly malfunctioning if they had thought a weak femme like her was going to be enough to stop him. Too many blows to the head, apparently.

"You won't find him," Arcee spat at him.

A low laugh rumbled from Barricade, his yellow knife teeth glinting. "Still underestimating me, Autobot?"

"You still haven't killed me."

"And for one reason only." He stepped towards her, and threw a long piece of something metallic at her face. It was the remains of one of her arms. He grinned. "So you can see your failure firsthand." His expression twisted into a frown. "And you can see once again the superiority of the Decepticons. Regret your choice, femme."

With that, he turned away.

"No! Fight me!" Arcee cried desperately.

Barricade turned to look at her, his disfigured face dripping with malice. "All hail Megatron."

Following those final words, Barricade began folding into himself, shrinking down into his police alt-mode. He had no desire to further prolong this: it was time to find the fleshling and get rid of him once and for all. As the final pieces of his transformation slid into place, he shot one last slug at Arcee, but deliberately missed so that it landed behind her. He laughed at her recoil.

Pathetic.

His engine roared as his tires skidded, and before Arcee could blink, he was gone.

No! She growled at herself, frustrated with her obvious weakness. Sam! She had to stop Barricade, she had to get to Sam before he did. She should have never left Sam, she should have taken him somewhere safe!

Arcee hauled herself painfully out of the rubble, awkwardly doing so with only one arm. She briefly glanced at her fallen arm, nearly unrecognizable as it lay on the pavement. Her processors were hounding her with various alarms, all blaring at her with obvious significance. There were leaks in her energon lines, her system was overheating and there were various other serious injuries. Her body had halted its previous self-repair: it was now pooling its resources in her most critical injuries to order to keep her alive.

She was in bad shape. But it didn't matter, not right now. "Hold on, Sam."

Slowly, and painfully, she began to transform into her alt-shape. It was, of course, in no better shape than she was right now, but she would travel faster this way. She hissed as broken metal and lines rearranged themselves, scraping and pushing other pieces that they should not be. Arcee ignored how blue energon was beginning to seep out from underneath her armour.

_I'm coming._ Her engine fired up and she shot forward the same direction as Barricade. She wasn't about to let down Sam, Optimus and everyone else that had entrusted him to her.

If she did, how would she ever be able to face Bumblebee again?

* * *

**Author Note: **That's right, you just read a new chapter after all this time! I also fixed the formatting that fanfiction had messed up in my story, so it should read smoother now.

The original plan had been to finish this story before Dark of the Moon came out, and obviously that didn't happen. So there are some things that don't jive with the live movie continuity. I'm aware of these. For example, Arcee and her three bodies. (In the movie comics, similar to my story, the three are sisters, but sadly, Chromia and Elita-1 were killed. Flatline, a Decepticon medic, has Arcee captured and experiments on her, connecting her consciousness to that of her dead sisters. So, they share a will, but are autonomous mostly). To make things easier, I'm just going to continue as I had been doing in this story, but I _am_ aware of these issues.

THANK YOU to all my readers that still kept reading, to all those reviewers and those that have my story under favourites and alerts. It was all of you that now inspire me to finish, and I will, for you.


	18. Chapter 18

...

LOCATION ACQUIRED.

WARNING: SYSTEM INTEGRITY AT HAZARDOUS LEVELS

RECOMMENDED: SPEED REDUCTION

_Sam... _

He wouldn't fail him. Not this time.

x x x x

Sam scuttled to the next car, staying as low as he could despite the various pains throughout his body. Mostly his own fault, really... jumping off a motorcycle? Shaking his head at his stupidity, he studied the area again and breathed a sigh of relief– still no sign of anything.

He didn't really have much of a plan. To make things worse, he wasn't altogether sure where he was either. But he did know that he couldn't stay here– not here where homes lined both sides of the streets. He couldn't allow a Decepticon to find him here. Most homes seemed empty, homes whose families had already abandoned in terror. But some were not: he would occasionally see faces that peeked out from within closed windows. He could feel their eyes following him as he scrambled from car to car, undoubtedly wondering what he was doing outside.

So he continued like that for a while, until he hit what seemed like a major road. It was, of course, also empty. Whether that was a good thing or not, Sam didn't know. If anything, it meant he couldn't be all that far away from the battle now. As if to confirm his suspicion, a far-off explosion boomed. Somewhere in the city, he knew he would already find ruin.

A thought came to him. Maybe that's where he should be heading towards. But would Barricade be there?

No, no he wouldn't, Sam realized. Barricade had never been the sort to get himself into the big fights.

But still, maybe he would be near.

Sam shivered. He wasn't cold. But he couldn't help but feel as if he were in the middle of the calm that preceded the terrible storm. His heart began pounding in anticipation. Sometimes, he'd stop and wonder... but he only had to think of Mikaela again and his blood would begin to boil once more.

But how? How could he bring down Barricade? He was a mere human, what could he do? "Damn it!" he cried, slamming his fist against the car door he was crouching beside. It thrummed lowly with the impact. Why was he so weak? Always the Autobots were coming to his rescue. He thought of Arcee. He was helpless without them.

There was no way he would ever be able to bring down Barricade on his own. That was a fact, no matter how hard it was to accept. He might not even be able to help bring him down, in his current condition of being half injured with no weapons in his possession. But it had to happen, that much he knew. Barricade had to die, one way or another.

Sam stopped moving.

All that mattered was that Barricade was destroyed, just as he destroyed Mikaela. It didn't _have_ to be by him... So after a moment, he decided that would be his compromise to himself: if he couldn't kill him with his own hand, he would _watch_ him die instead.

The plan was simple then. He didn't feel great about it, but there was no other option. He knew the Autobots would come, if he were in danger. So he just had to let Barricade find him, and stay alive long enough for one of the Autobots to arrive. His breathing became short. And they would, they wouldn't dare not to, not after Mikaela...

He may have forgiven Bumblebee, but he hadn't forgiven the Autobots.

"All right, Sam. Let's do it," he murmured to himself.

x x x x

The Decepticon's sensors warned him that the Autobot femme was pursuing, but he didn't give it much thought. Already defeated, she was at the brink of death. One half-hearted strike was all that was needed to finish her off.

It was pitiful. Let her come. There was, after all, more than one way to destroy an Autobot.

So he instead focused on finding the fleshling. Among his many talents, if there was one thing Barricade truly excelled at, it was tracking. He had found the human insect all those years ago, and he would find him again. It was, if anything, far easier now. He had all the data he could want on the human. Finding him was simply a matter of time, not very much of it at that.

Ah, yes, there.

His system triangulated the human's position, finding him not at all far away. Clearly, the Autobot hadn't done her job very well. Maybe a little closer than he would've liked to the rest of the Autobots, but if Starscream did his job, they would be already too occupied to do anything.

Had the mission been solely about killing the human insect, it would still be worth the trouble. This particular human was exceedingly far more annoying than most of his race.

He would enjoy this, oh yes.

As Barricade approached Sam's location, he noted that the human had, apparently, poor self-preservation instincts. Instead of huddling in some dark corner suitable to his pathetic existence, he was instead, more or less, in the center of what the humans call a parking lot.

The human insect wouldn't even make good sport at this rate.

Wait.

Barricade skidded to a stop, producing a screech that, had any human been in the vicinity, would have left their ears ringing. Was it a trap? Was the fleshling back in Autobot hands, and could they now be using the human as bait? Why else would he be so exposed?

His sensors sprang alive. He thoroughly scanned as far out as his sensors allowed him, and he also did his best to get vague readings on the areas outside of his range. Nothing. The nearest Autobot was the crippled femme, and the others who were occupied with Starscream were too far away to be considered a threat. So it wasn't the Autobots.

And still, the human had not moved in the slightest in the time that it took the Decepticon for his scans. Barricade decided that he was merely over thinking it. Clearly, the human was not caught there by chance, as evidenced by his lack of moment. The human was, apparently, purposely there. But why? Even an insect like him had to know that he was utterly vulnerable and open to any sort of attack. All killing him would take was a well-aimed blast. Barricade's logic programs could not make sense of it.

So the only conclusion he could come to was that organic life was, as previously noted, erratic and utterly unpredictable in behaviour, even in cases of self-preservation. This was merely another example.

How the humans managed to survive this long, Barricade would never understand.

Despite his rationalizing that it could not possibly be a trap, he still moved cautiously forward. His scans were still running, checking for any sort of change. His guns were powered on, ready should they be needed.

He considered simply blasting the human out of existence. It would be quick, simple and would allow him to depart in minimal time.

But the idea of slowly killing this particular fleshling was too attractive.

Well, then, he would just have to make it worth it.

Revving up his engine, which had a very alien growl to it, Barricade shot forward. Although still in his police alt-mode, his guns were half-transformed, allowing him to shoot. And he did.

He deliberately missed, shooting in a wide circle around the human. Debris flew everywhere. Barricade basked in the satisfying rumble and groan of obliteration.

Fear, human. Fear that which you cannot escape.

x x x x

His world began to explode.

His first reaction was not to duck, or to run, or even to scream. Instead, he found himself thinking back to that day... that day of glass shattering, of screams and noise. It was a surreal moment. Barricade again attacking him, and here he was, once more defenceless and helpless. If he died, it would be almost as if he had never survived to start with.

It was an odd thought.

Another blast startled him out of his thoughts. The heat of it was close enough that Sam could feel his skin tingle painfully. He immediately threw himself to the ground, covering his head. He thought he could hear laughter. Sam looked up to see that Barricade had transformed into his bipedal shape and had stopped shooting to laugh at him. It was just like in his nightmares: the huge, metallic giant with glowing red eyes and the promise of death in his glare.

"Well? Aren't you going to run, little insect? Try to make it interesting for me!" He aimed directly at Sam, his eyes glinting darkly.

No, not yet. Barricade wasn't dead yet. He had to stay alive!

Sam scrambled to his feet in record time and sprinted as fast as he could away. Pain shot up all through his body. Another explosion knocked him off his feet and sent him crashing into the pavement. His ears wouldn't stop ringing.

"Get up, Sam! Run!" A voice cried shrilly. Arcee.

By the time Sam looked back, the ex-tripartite Autobot was hanging on Barricade's cannon arm and was shooting at the mech's face at the same time. Even from Sam's distance he could see the blue energon that was leaking at a worrying pace from Arcee. The Decepticon angrily growled and with the same distaste that Sam flicked off a mosquito, he threw off the femme.

But Barricade didn't shoot her. Instead, he knelt down and grabbed her harshly, painfully immobile in his grip. He brought her up so their faces were nearly touching. "For that, you get to watch me kill your precious fleshling."

She spit in his face. But the Decepticon only grinned as he turned to face Sam, who was still sprawled on the ground.

"You've caused enough me enough trouble, human. You were meant to die a long time ago," the mech snarled. He ignored the Autobot femme as she struggled impressively against his hold, but she wasn't going anywhere.

"Sam, SAM!" Arcee shouted desperately.

It was almost in slow motion. Sam watched as Barricade lifted up his stronger cannon arm, and aimed it directly at him. It began to glow a faint red as it warmed up and he could hear a gentle whirring that signaled the gun coming online. Sam didn't even bother try getting up: where would he run to?

He closed his eyes.

x x x x

Prowl grasped the Decepticon's head with one hand. He was small, but that had never stopped him from dispatching an uncountable number of Decepticons back on Cybertron. The Autobot was considered his faction's best tactician, but he was also an impressive melee fighter. The humans, now that he was in their line of fire, had stopped showering the air with fire. Just as well–the Decepticon was nearly done anyways.

"Decepticon punk," Prime's lieutenant spat as he blasted Stormcloud's head clean off. Nimbly, he did a back flip just as the huge dead mass began to fall. He landed lightly on his feet at the same moment the Decepticon clattered onto the destroyed runway.

Prowl didn't waste any time.

Gesturing to the flying military helicopters, he shouted at them. "Follow me! It is imperative we find the Witwicky boy before it's too late!"

The small Autobot swiftly folded into his police alt-form, much like Barricade's own disguise. He raced forward.

Arcee's last frantic communication did not bode well for Sam's survival. She was critically injured and was unlikely to be able to take down the Decepticon on her own. Barricade had managed to elude them for many years and had survived numerous fights. There was just no chance of Arcee being able to take him down.

And Prowl doubted he would make it in time.

Sam's chances would be based on his extraordinary ability to stay alive despite all odds.

He hoped Optimus wasn't exaggerating.

* * *

**Author Note: **Thank you for all the reviews, favs and alerts! You guys just keep inspiring me.

I have a new story that I will start writing once this one is done. Going to be very transformer-centric, and will be based after DotM. =) Am looking forward to it!


	19. Chapter 19

Darkness had long fallen at Diego Garcia. But to the tall graceful giants of Cybertron, it wasn't much of a real concern. They were not tied to the same day-night cycles that the humans were, and so, they were often seen working well into the dark of the night. Nevertheless, their night activity was still drastically reduced from what they would normally do, in respect to their human allies with whom they shared the base with. And what little they _did_ do was kept minimal and as quiet as possible.

But tonight, both human and Autobot were awake.

Ever since Optimus and his group had left base, Diego Garcia had been left on standby. They were too far away to be of any immediate help should the Autobot leader need it, but that didn't mean Lennox wouldn't be ready to act, and by extension, the base. His promise to stay behind didn't have to be a promise to remain uselessly behind.

And of course, Sam had managed to go find trouble.

Optimus and Ironhide kept the NEST base well updated, in addition to the occasional report from Prowl. But it was those few reports that Arcee transmitted that worried him the most. It hadn't been long before the situation really began to deteriorate: first with Optimus and his group being occupied by Starscream, and then by Skywarp's and Stormcloud's untimely arrivals.

So Barricade remained unaccounted for and Sam's only protection was Arcee.

"You should rest, Major Lennox," a low voice arose from the quiet. Lennox didn't need to turn to recognize the voice of Ratchet. "There is nothing more you can do here. Take the opportunity to obtain some sleep."

The Major sighed. Currently, he was in the main Autobot hanger, staring at the various screens that were positioned within a raised metal platform. It was where they had Optimus speak with various officials stationed off-base. As he stood to turn around, one of the technicians immediately took his place. Shrugging, he stepped up against the rail, where he was almost at eye level with Ratchet. He thought of how Optimus towered over him whenever he stood right where Ratchet was now. Sometimes, he really forgot how tall Optimus was.

Lennox frowned. "I don't know why, but something feels off."

"How so, Major?"

Gut feeling? Irrational misgiving? How do you explain that sick feeling in the stomach to a colossal metal alien? He didn't doubt that their Cybertronian friends had hunches too, but he wouldn't dare guess how it manifested.

"Don't you think it's a little strange how far they're going to kill Sam? I understand sending Barricade after him, but after being in hiding for so long, they come out for this?" He paused, thinking back about what he just said and quickly amended: "Not that Sam's unimportant; it just seems a little strong for them."

Ratchet processed his words thoughtfully. "I must agree, Major Lennox. It certainly seems out of character for the Decepticons, especially with so many involved. They had always given the impression that they consider your species nothing more but a minor nuisance." The bright coloured Autobot tapped his chin, a habit he had picked up from his human allies.

But neither the medic nor Lennox had the chance to say much more on the subject, as a red Autobot had made his way over to the two at that moment. He gave a quick passing glance at Lennox, but didn't give him much thought, preferring to instead direct himself to Ratchet only.

"Why we not chasing after these Decepticons? I will _morire di_ here!" The red Autobot scoffed, adding: "Maybe you _pigrone_, but I'm ready to take down some Decepticon."

The larger Autobot wasn't fazed. "It hasn't been that long since you've arrived, Mirage, and Optimus would prefer you to become better acquainted with our human friends."

Mirage gave Lennox another look, but he still wasn't impressed. "Waste of time. I would do far more good on the mainland than here."

As each of the Autobots arrived on Earth, they all responded differently upon meeting their shorter allies. Some took to the humans immediately; others like Mirage (much like Sideswipe when he had first landed) took a little more convincing.

A touch of annoyance began to creep into the medic's voice. "It is a delicate assignment..." Ratchet began, but he was interrupted by the arrival of another very different Autobot.

"There is a great deal of good one can accomplish behind the front lines. If you need something to do..." he trailed off. Lennox much preferred Wheeljack to Mirage, particularly among the new wave of Autobots. But then, he hadn't yet met them all: so far, he still hadn't been allowed to meet the trio who were called by the others as the Wreckers. All the same, Lennox wasn't insulted by Mirage–he knew the shock of meeting an alien that wasn't at all like you, and that took a little time.

"Maybe that's good enough for you, _fannullone_, to stay back and make your toys, but that is not what I do."

"I beg your pardon, but what I make are not 'toys' as you call them. Why, just the other day, I finished up that new blaster Ironhide's been after me for."

But Mirage had stopped listening, doing the Autobot equivalent of an eye roll.

Ratchet had enough. _He_ had better things to do than to listen to bickering. Wheeljack should know better. Shaking his head, he began walking away, but not before first saying in parting to Lennox: "I do suggest you take the opportunity to sleep, Major, while you still can."

After he was some distance away, the CMO began to transform, folding himself into his rescue hummer. His transformation was quick and he hadn't quite finished before he was already rolling away. He didn't have the patience for it today, but he would have to teach Mirage some more manners. As for Wheeljack, well, just because he was an old friend of his didn't mean he would let it slide by. He knew Lennox could take care of himself.

The man listened to the two Autobots for a little while longer before he too began shaking his own head. He really was accomplishing nothing by staying here. Turning around, he placed his hand on the shoulder of the technician that took his place. "I'm heading out. Let me know if we find out anything different."

"Of course, sir," the technician replied, keeping his eyes trained on the screen. The other technicians nodded.

Just as he was about to head down the long stairs, one of the other technicians spoke up, stopping him just as he took his first step down. "Wait a minute, sir. I have something here. I can't quite make sense of it..." Lennox was immediately behind the woman as she began to explain the numbers.

Mirage had stopped talking mid-sentence. He gave a Wheeljack an incomprehensible look before he wordlessly turned around and made his way over to the hanger entrance. His scans were already running full speed as he peered into the darkness. Nothing, there was nothing...? His expression twisted into that of confusion.

It didn't remain that way for long.

"Decepticons!_ Get down!_" Mirage cried to those behind him.

He barely had enough time to drop to the ground in a roll and engage his cloaking system just as a flurry of gunfire followed.

x x x x

The dread that filled her was like nothing she had ever felt before.

First, when Arcee had finally caught up to Barricade, her first sight had been that of Sam flat on the ground. For a moment, for a terrible moment there, she feared she had been too late. With her power half depleted and her strength waning by the millisecond, there had been no plan when she flew through the air to grab at Barricade. All that mattered was that she had to stop him somehow, had to give Sam another chance to escape, even at the cost of her own life.

Optimus had taught her that.

Pain had shot through her when she was swatted away, her body crumpling against the debris that littered the now destroyed parking lot. She had no strength left to control her fall.

And before she could regain her bearing, she was suddenly in the air again.

The immense pressure of Barricade's metal grip threatened to collapse her body, and she had found her body heaving involuntarily as it tried desperately to lessen the strain. But Barricade was unrelenting and she could barely even struggle.

"For that, you get to watch me kill your precious fleshling," he had growled menacingly.

But the full terror that Sam was going to die, and the sickening dread that came with the realization that she was too weak, too powerless to do anything to stop it from happening didn't set in until Barricade slowly took aim. Once again, here she was: watching helplessly because she had been too weak to fight. Again, she would fail Bumblebee.

She had never been the warrior. Chromia had always been the one most at ease in battle, the one who, although she detested war, had found her calling somewhere among the despair of Cybertron. Elita-1 was not like Chromia, but she had been a warrior long before Chromia had been, fighting in the original wars between the tribes before the All Spark had been found by Sentinel Prime. But her? Arcee loathed fighting. But the war gave no exceptions, and here she was, fighting. And now, as the only one left of her sisters, she knew she had to step up to where they had once stood.

Instead, she was barely half functioning and ensnared right when she was most needed.

Despair filled her.

"Sam, SAM!" she cried.

As Barricade's cannon came to life, Arcee couldn't help but stare at Sam's frozen body, still on the ground where he had fallen earlier. Such a pity. After all he had been through, after surviving battles that would have long claimed any other normal human, this is where he would fall: at the hands of a single stealth Decepticon with no one but Arcee to witness his undeserved death.

Barricade fired.

And Bumblebee ran into the line of fire.

* * *

**Author Note:** Have some bad news, I'm afraid. I had been hoping to finish this story and have the final chapters ready to publish before I went on holiday... but I didn't manage to do it. You won't be hearing from me until September, when I get back. But I promise you: you _will_ hear from me! I've really gotten into this story again.

In the meantime... I've alluded to a few events that occur in the prequel movie comics by IDW, and I really suggest you get your hands on them!


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